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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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Shelf. ' 5 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK, 

OK 

PROTESTS OF IRISH PATRIOTISM. 

The Manchester Tragedy and the Cruise of the 
Jackmell Packet. 

"THE WEARING OP THE GREEN," 

OR 

THE PROSECUTED FUNERAL PROCESSION, &c. 



¥ 



BY 

D. SULLIVAN, A. M. SULLIVAN, AND D. B. SULLIVAN 



CONTAINING, 
WITH INTRODUCTORY SKETCHES AND BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES, 

SPEECHES DELIVERED W THE DOCK 



/ 



v 



THEOBALD WOLFE TONE 
WILLIAM ORR 
THE BROTHERS SHEARES 
^ ROBERT EMMET 
THOMAS RUSSELL 
JOHN MITCHELL 
JOHN MARTIN [1848] 
WILLIAM SMITH O'BRIEN 
THOMAS FRANCIS MEAGHER 
TERENCE BELLEW M'MANUS 
WILLIAM P. ALLEN 
MICHAEL LARKIN 
MICHAEL O'BRIEN 
THOMAS C. LUBY 



JOHN O'LEARY 
CHARLES J. KICKHAM 
J. O'DONOVAN ROSSA 
COLONEL THOMAS F. BURKE 
CAPTAIN JOHN M'AFFERTY 
STEPHEN J. MEANY 
EDWARD DUFFY 
CAPTAIN JOHN M'CLURE 
JOHN EDWARD KELLY 
COLONEL JOHN WARREN 
AUGUSTINE E. COSTELLO 
CAPTAIN MACKAY 
A. M. SULLIVAN 
JOHN MARTIN [1868]. 



TWENTY-THIRD DUBLIN EDITION, 

AND 

FIRST AMERICAN EDITION. 



PROVIDENCE, R. L: 

HENRY McELROY, 
MURPHY AND MCCARTHY, 

I 878. 






|THE LIBRARY 
JOF CONGRESS 

WASHINGTON 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, bj 

henry Mcelroy, 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at "Washington. 



IV C < 



PART I 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK; 



OE ; 



PEOTESTS OF IRISH PATEIOTISM. 



SPEECHES DELIVERED AFTER CONVICTION, 



THEOBALD WOLFE TONE, 

WILLIAM ORR, 

THE BROTHERS SHEARES, 

ROBERT EMMET, 

JOHN MARTIN (1848), 

WILLIAM SMITH O'BRIEN, 

THOMAS FRANCIS MEAGHER, 



TERENCE BELLEW M'MANUS, 
JOHN MITCHEL, 
THOMAS C. LUBY, 
JOHN OLEARY, 
CHARLES J. KICKHAM, 
COLONEL THOMAS F. BURKE, 
CAPTAIN MACKAY. 



•' Freedom's battle, once began,— 
Beqaeath'd from bleeding sire to eon,— 
Though baffled oft, is ever won." 



PEOVIDENCE, R. 1.: 

henry Mcelroy, 
murphy and mccarthy. 

1878. 



PREFACE. 



During their many years in the book business, the 
publishers have received numerous orders for the present 
work. But, as the book had never been published in 
America, the orders could only be filled at great expense. 
These facts, together with the daily increasing Irish 
national spirit among Irishmen, and their descendants 
in this country, have decided them to undertake the task 
of supplying, at a reasonable price, a want that has 
long been felt. They ardently hope that their endeavor 
may haply contribute toward arousing, to an even higher 
enthusiasm, the aspirations of their fellow-countrymen. 
That the " Speeches from the Dock " may reecho through 
every lyceum, college and household, fanning into a 
blaze the glowing embers of that patriotic spirit of Irish 
national independence, is their most earnest desire. 

Pkovidence, R. I., J 

May-day, 1878. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



PAKT I. 



Introductory ----- - D. B. S. - - « - 7 

Theobald Wolfe Todg T. D. S. - - - - 14 

William Orr D. B. S. - - - - 28 

Henry and John Sheares - - • D. B. S. - - - 32 

Robert Emmet T. D. S. - - - -39 

Thomas Russell - - - - - D. B. S. - - - 54 

John Mitch el - - - - - - - T. D. S. - - - -72 

John Martin ------- D. B. S. - - - 93 

W. S. O'Brien D. B. S. - - - - 107 

T.P.Meagher D. B. S. - - - 133 

Kevin Izod O'Doherty D. B. 8. - - - - 144 

Terence Belles MacManus - - - - D. B. .S. - - - 148 

Thomas Clarke Luby - - r - - T. D. S. - - - - 152 

John O'Leary - - - T. D. S. - - - 168 

J. O'Donovan (Rossa) T. D. S. - - - - 171 

Brian Dillon, John Lynch, and others - - T. D. S. - - - 174 

Charles J. Kickharn T. D. S. - - - - 18* 

Thomas P. Burke - - - - - - D. B. S. - - - 188 

John M'Afferty T. D. S 200 

Edward Duffy, S. J. Meany, and John M'Clure T. D. S. - - - 204 

Edward Kelly and Captain Mackey - - - T. D. 8. - . - - 219 



PART II. 



The Dock and the Scaffold - - - -A.M. 
The Cruise of the ,k Jackmel" (Colonel Warren, 
Augustine E. Costello, General W. Halpiu; - 



8. and D. B. S. 



T. D. S. 



PART III. 



The'Wearing of the Green ; or, The Prosecuted 

Funeral Procession. A. M. S. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



INTRODUCTORY. 

To the lovers of Ireland — to those who sympathize with 
her sufferings and resent her wrongs, there can be few 
things more interesting than the history of the struggles 
which sprang from devotion to her cause, and were con- 
secrated by the blood of her patriots. The efforts of 
the Irish race to burst the fetters that foreign force and 
native dissensions imposed on them, and elevate their 
country from bondage and degradation to a place amongst 
free nations, fill a page in the world's history which no 
lover of freedom can read without emotion, and which 
must excite wonder, admiration, and regret in the mind of 
every man with whom patriotism is* not a reproach, and 
who can sympathize with a cause ennobled by fidelity 
and sacrifice, and sanctified by the blood and tears of 
a nation. "How hands so vile could conquer hearts 
so brave," is the question which our national poet sup- 
poses to arise in the mind of the stranger, as he looks on 
the spectacle of Ireland in her decay; but another ques- 
tion will suggest itself to those who study the history of 
our country! it is, how a feeling so deeply rooted as the 
love of independence is in the hearts of the Irish people 
— an aspiration so warmly and so widely entertained — 
which has been clung to with so much persistency — 
which has survived through centuries of persecu- 
tion — for which generations have arisen, and fought 
and bled, and dashed themselves against the power of 
England with a succession as unbroken as that of the 
waves upon our shores — a cause so universally loved, so 
deeply reverenced, and so unflinchingly supported by a 
brave and intrepid race, should never have attained the 
blessing of success. A more signal instance than that 



8 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

which Ireland can supply of the baffling of a nation's 
hope, the prolonged frustration of a people's will, is not 
on record j and few even of those who most condemn 
the errors and weakness by which Irishmen themselves 
have retarded the national object, will hesitate to say that 
they have given to mankind the noblest proof they pos- 
sess of the vitality of the principles of freedom, and the 
indestructibility of national sentiment. 

It is for us, however, Irish of the Irish, that the history 
of the struggle for Ireland's rights possesses most attrac- 
tionsv We live amidst the scenes where the battles 
against the stranger were fought, and where the men who 
waged them lived and died. The bones of the patriots 
who labored for Ireland, and of those who died for her, 
repose in the graveyards around us; and we have still 
amongst us the inheritors of their blood, their name, and 
their spirit. It was to make us free — to render independ- 
ent and prosperous the nation to which we belong — that 
the pike was lifted and the green flag raised j and it was 
in furtherance of this object, on which the hearts of Irish- 
men are still set, that the men whose names shine through 
the pages on which the story of Ireland's struggles for 
national existence is written, suffered and died. To fol- 
low out that mournful but absorbing story is not, however, 
the object aimed at in the following pages. The history 
of Ireland is no longer a sealed volume to the people ; 
more than one author has told it truthfully and well, and 
the list of books devoted to it is every day receiving 
valuable accessions. Nor has it even been attempted, in 
this little work, though trenching more closely on its 
subject, to trace the career and sketch the lives of the 
men who fill the foremost places in the ranks of Ireland's 
political martyrs. In the subjoined pages little more will 
be found than a correct report of the addresses delivered, 
under certain peculiar circumstances, by the group of Irish- 
men whose names are given on the titlepage. A single 
public utterance from the lips of each of these gentlemen 
is all that we have printed, though it would be easy to 
supplement them, in nearly every case, by writings and 
speeches owning a similar authorship, equally eloquent 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 9 

and equally patriotic. But the speeches given here are 
associated with facts which give them peculiar value and 
significance, and were spoken under circumstances which 
lend to them a solemn interest and impressiveness which 
could not otherwise be obtained. They reach us — these 
dock speeches, in which nobility of purpose and chival- 
rous spirit is expressed — like voices from the tomb, like 
messages from beyond the grave, brimful of lessons of 
dignity and patriotism. We can see the men who spoke 
them standing before the representatives of the govern- 
ment whose oppression had driven them to revolt, when 
the solemn farce of trying them for a crime which pos- 
terity will account a virtue had terminated, and when the 
verdict of "guilty" had gladdened the hearts of their 
accusers. The circumstances under which they spoke 
might well cause a bold man to falter. They were about 
parting forever from all that makes life dear to man ; 
and, for some of them ? the sentence which was to cut 
short the thread of their existence, to consign them to a 
bloody and ignominious death, to leave their bodies mu- 
tilated corpses, from which the rights of Christian burial 
were to be withheld — which was to assign them the 
death of a dog, and to follow them with persecuting hand 
into the valley of death — was about to fall from the lips 
of the judges whom they addressed. Against others a 
fate less repulsive, perhaps, to the feelings of humanity, 
but certainly not more merciful, and hardly less painful 
and appalling, was about to be decreed. Recent revela- 
tions have thrown some light on the horrors endured by 
the Irish political prisoners who languish within the 
prison pens of England ; but it needs far more than a 
stray letter, a half-stifled cry from the dungeon depths, 
to enable the public to realize the misery, the wretched- 
ness, and the degradation attached to the condition to 
which England reduces her political convicts. Con- 
demned to associate with the vilest of the scoundrels bred 
by the immorality and godlessness of England — exposed, 
without possibility of redress, to the persecutions of brutal, 
coarse-minded men, accustomed to deal only with ruffians 
than whom beasts are less ferocious and unreclaimable — 



10 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

restricted to a course of discipline which blasts the vigor 
of the body, and under whose influence reason herself 
totters upon her throne — the Irish rebel, against whom the 
doom of penal servitude has been pronounced, is con- 
demned to the most hideous and agonizing punishments 
to which men of their class could be exposed. It was 
with such terrors staring them in the face, that the men 
whose- words are recorded in this little work delivered 
their speeches from the dock. It is surely something for 
us, their countrymen, to boast of, that, neither in their 
bearing nor in their words, was there manifested the 
slightest trace of weakness, the faintest exhibition of any 
feeling which could show that their hearts were acces- 
sible to the terror which their situation was so well 
calculated to inspire. - No cheek grew pale, no eyes lost 
their light — their tones were unbroken, and their manner 
undaunted as ever, as these men uttered the words we 
purpose recording. \ Their language tells of minds which 
persecution could not subdue, and for which death itself 
possessed no sting; and the manner in which it was 
expressed showed that, in their case, elevation of sen- 
timent was allied with unconquerable firmness and 
resolution.^ Never were lessons so noble more boldly 
preached. It is in courts of justice, after all, declares a 
great English authority, that the lessons of morality are best 
taught ; and in Ireland the truthfulness of the assertion is 
established. But it is not from the bench or the jury-box 
that the words have fallen in which the cause of morality 
and justice has been vindicated x venality, passion, and 
prejudice have but too often swayed the decisions of both : 
and it is to the dock we must turn when we seek for 
honor, integrity, and patriotism. 

We owe it to the men who suffered so unflinchingly in 
the cause of our country, and w r ho have left us so precious 
a heritage in the speeches in which they hurled a last 
defiance at their oppressors, that their names should not 
be forgotten, or the recollection of their acts suffered 
to grow cold. The noblest incentive to patriotism, as it 
is the highest reward which this world can offer those 
who dare and suffer for fatherland, is the gratitude, the 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 11 

sympathy, and the applause of the people for whom they 
labored. We owe it to the brave men whose patriotism 
is attested in the addresses comprised in this volume, 
that the memory of their noble deeds shall not pass 
away,\and that their names shall remain enshrined in the 
hearts of their countrymen.) They failed, it is true, to 
accomplish what they attempted, and the battle to which 
they devoted themselves has yet to be won ; but we know 
that they, at least, did their part courageously and well ; 
and, looking back now upon the stormy scenes of their 
labors, and contrasting the effects of their sacrifices with 
the cost at which they were made, the people of Ireland 
are still prepared to accept the maxim that — 

" 'Tis better to have fought and lost, 
Than never to have fought at all." 

While such men can be found to suffer as they have 
suffered for Ireland, the ultimate triumph of her aspira- 
tions cannot be doubted ; nor can the national faith be 
despaired of while it has martyrs so numerous and so 
heroic. ^ It is by example that the great lessons of pa- 
triotism can best be conveyed j and if the national spirit 
burn brightly to-day in Ireland — if the spirit of her 
children be still defiant and unsubdued — if, at home and 
in the far West, the hearts of the Irish people still throb 
with the emotions that prompted Emmet and Wolfe Tone 
— if their eyes are still hot to see the independence of 
their country, their arms still ready to strike, and their 
spirit ready to sacrifice for the accomplishment of that 
object, we owe the result largely to the men whose names 
are inscribed in this little work, and whose memory it is 
intended to perpetuate. 

We have commenced our series with the speech of 
Theobald Wolfe Tone, and our record stretches no 
further back than the memorable insurrection of 1798. 
If our object were to group together the Irishmen who 
are known to have struggled for the independence of 
their country, and who suffered for their attachment to 
her cause, we might go much further back into history, 
and indefinitely increase the bulk of this publication. 



12 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

We fix the insurrection of '98 as the limit of our collec- 
tion, chiefly because it was at tbat time trials for high 
treason in Ireland assumed the precise meaning and signi- 
ficance which they now possess ; and there is consequently, 
in the speeches which follow, such a unity of purpose and 
sentiment as renders them especially suitable for presen- 
tation in a single volume. Only seventy years have 
elapsed since Wolfe Tone spoke to the question w T hy 
sentence should not be pronounced on him — only two-thirds 
of a century since Emmet vindicated the cause of his 
country from the Green-street dock, — and already what a 
host of imitators and disciples have they had ! There is 
not a country in Europe, there is not a nationality in the 
world, can produce such another collection as that which we 
to-day lay before the people of Ireland. We live under a 
government which claims to be just, liberal, and consti- 
tutional, yet against no other government in Christendom 
have the same number of protests been made within the 
same space of time. ^Not Poland, not Hungary, not 
Venetia, can point to such an unbroken succession of 
political martyrs. ^ The pages of history contain nothing 
to compare with the little volume we to-day place in the 
hands of our countrymen j and we know of no more 
powerful and eloquent condemnation of the system on 
which Ireland is governed, than that contained in the 
simple fact that all those speeches were spoken, all those 
trials carried out, all those sentences decreed, within the 
lifetime of a single generation. \ It is idle to think of 
subduing a people who make so many sacrifices, and who 
are undaunted still; it is vain to think of crushing a 
spirit which survives so much persecution. The execu- 
tioner and . the gaoler, the gibbet, the block, and the 
dungeon, have done their w 7 ork in the crusade against 
Irish Nationality, and we know what the result is to-day. 
The words of the last political convict whose name 
appears in these pages are as uncompromising and as bold 
as those of the first of his predecessors ; and, studying the 
spirit which they have exhibited, and marking the effect 
of their conduct on the bulk of their countrymen, it is 
impossible to avoid the conclusion that so much persistent 



SPEECHES FKOM THE DOCK. 13 

resolution and heroism must one day eventuate in success, 
and that Ireland, the country for which so many brave 
men have suffered with such unfaltering courage, is not 
destined to disprove the rule that — 

" Freedom's battle once begun, — 
Bequeath'd from bleeding sire to son. — 
Though baffled oft, is ever won.'' 



14 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



THEOBALD WOLFE TONE. 

No name is more intimately associated with the national 
movement of 1798 than that of Theobald Wolfe Tone. 
He was its main-spring, its leading spirit. Many men 
connected with it possessed, as he did, brilliant talents, 
unfailing courage and determination, and an intense de- 
votion to the cause ; but the order of his genius raised 
him above them all, and marked him out from the first 
as the head and front of the patriot party. He was one 
of the original founders of the Society of United Irish- 
men, which was formed in Belfast in the year 1791. In 
its early days this society was simply a sort of reform 
association, a legal and constitutional body, having for 
its chief object the removal of the frightful oppressions 
by which the Catholic people of Ireland were tortursd 
and disgraced ; but in the troubled and portentous con- 
dition of home and foreign politics, the society could not 
long retain this character. The futility of seeking a 
redress of the national grievances by parliamentary means 
was becoming apparent to every understanding. The 
system of outrage and injustice towards the Catholics, 
unabating in its severity, continued to exasperate the 
actual sufferers, and to offend all men of humane feelings 
and enlightened principles; and, at the same time, the 
electric influence of the American War of Independence 
and the French Revolution was operating powerfully in 
every heart, evoking there the aspiration for Irish freedom, 
and inspiring a belief in its possible attainment. In the 
midst of such exciting circumstances the society could not 
continue to stand on its original basis. In the year 1794, 
after a debate among the members, followed by the 
withdrawal of the more moderate or timid among them from 
its ranks, it assumed the form and character of a secret 
revolutionary organization ; and Tone, Thomas Addis 
Emmet, Samuel Neilson, Thomas Russell, James Napper 




THEOBALD WOLFE TONE. 
From a Portrait by his Daughter in-law Mrs. Sampson Tone. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 15 

Tandy, with a number of other patriotic gentlemen in 
Belfast, Dublin, and other parts of the country, soon found 
themselves in the full swing of an insurrectionary move- 
ment, plotting and planning for the complete overthrow 
of British power in Ireland. Thenceforward, for some 
time, the organization went on rapidly extending through 
the province of Ulster, in the first instance, and subse- 
quently over most of the midland and southern counties. 

Such was the state of affairs when, in the early part of 
1794, an emissary from the French government arrived 
in Ireland, to ascertain to what extent the Irish people 
were likely to cooperate with France in a war against 
Eng'and. This individual was the Rev. William Jackson, 
an Irish Protestant clergyman, who had for some years 
been resident in France, and had become thoroughly 
imbued with democratic and republican principles. Un- 
fortunately, he was not one of the most prudent of envoys. 
He revealed his mission to an acquaintance of his, an 
English attorney, named Cockayne, who repaid his con- 
fidence by betraying his secrets to the government. 
Cockayne was immediately employed as a spy upon 
Jackson's further proceedings, in which capacity he 
accompanied his unsuspecting victim to Ireland, and 
acquired cognizance of most of his negotiations. On the 
28th of April, 1794, Jackson was arrested on a charge 
of high treason. He was brought to speedy trial, was 
found guilty, but was not sentenced, for, on the day 
on which the law's award was to have been announced to 
him, he contrived, before entering the court, to swallow 
a dose of poison, from the effects of which he expired in 
the dock. Tone, with whom Jackson was known to have 
been in confidential communication, was placed by those 
events in a very critical position : owing, however, to 
some influence which had been made with the government 
on his behalf, he was permitted to exile himself to America. 
As he had entered into no engagement with the government 
regarding his future line of conduct, he made his ex- 
patriation the means of forwarding, in the most effective 
manner, the designs he had at heart. He left Dublin 
for Philadelphia on the 20th of May, 1795. One of 



16 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

his first acts, after arriving', was to present to the French 
Minister there resident a memorial on the state of Ireland. 
During the remaining months of the year letters from 
his old friends came pouring in on him, describing the 
brightening prospects of the cause at home, and urging 
him to proceed to the French capital, and impress upon the 
Directory the policy of despatching at once an expedition to 
insure the success of the Irish revolutionary movement- 
Tone was not the man to disregard such representa- 
tions. He had at the time a fair prospect of securing a 
comfortable independence in America, but, with the full 
concurrence of his heroic wife, who had accompanied him 
across the Atlantic, he sacrificed those chances and re- 
sumed the perilous duties of an Irish patriot. On the 1st 
of January, 1796, he left New York for Paris, to try what 
he could do as a diplomatist for the cause of Ireland. 
Arrived at the French capital, he had his business com- 
municated to the Directory through the medium of an 
Irish gentleman, named Madgett, and also by memorial, 
representing always that the landing of a force of 20,000 
men in Ireland, with a supply of arms for the peasantry, 
would insure the separation of Ireland from England. 
Not satisfied with the slow progress he was thus achieving, 
he went on the 24th of February direct to the Luxemburg 
Palace, and sought and obtained an interview with 
the War Minister, the celebrated Carnot, the " organizer 
of victory." The Minister received him well, listened 
attentively to his statements, discussed his project with 
him, and appeared much impressed with the prospects it 
presented. The result was that, on the 16th of December 
in the same year, a splendid expedition sailed from Brest 
for Ireland. It consisted of seventeen sail of the line, 
thirteen frigates and fifteen transports, with some smaller 
craft, and had on board 15,000 troops, with a large supply 
of arms for the Irish patriots. Tone himself, who had 
received the rank of Adjutant- General in the French 
service, was on board one of the vessels. Had this force 
been disembarked on the shores of Ireland, it is hardly 
possible to doubt that the separation of this country from 
England would have been effected But the expedition 



SPEECHES FKOM THE DOCK. 17 

was unfortunate from the outset. It was scattered on the 
voyage during a gale of wind, and the admiral's vessel, 
with Hoche the commander on board, was separated 
from the others. A portion of the expedition entered the 
magnificent Bay of Bantry, and waited there several days, 
in expectation of being rejoined by the vessel containing 
the admiral and commander; but they waited in vain. 
Tone vehemently urged that a landing should be effected 
with the forces then at hand — some 6,500 men j but the 
officers procrastinated, time was lost, the wind which had 
been blowing from the east (that is out the harbor) rose to 
a perfect hurricane, and on the 27th and 28th of the month 
the vessels cut their cables and made the best of their way 
for France. 

This was a terrible blow to the hopes of the Irish 
organizer. Rage and sadness rilled his heart by turns as 
the fierce storm blew his vessel out of the bay and across 
the sea to the land which he had left under such favor- 
able auspices. But yet he did not resign himself to 
despair. As the patient spider renews her web again and 
again after it has been torn asunder, so did this indefatig- 
able patriot set to work to repair the misfortune that had 
occurred, and to build up another project of assistance 
for his unfortunate country. His perseverance was not 
unproductive of results. The Batavian or Dutch Republic, 
then in alliance with France, took up the project that had 
failed in the Bay of Bantry. In the month of July, 
1797, they had assembled in the Texel an expedition for 
the invasion of Ireland, nearly, if not quite, as formidable 
in men and ships as that which had left Brest in the 
previous year. Tone was on board the flagship, even 
more joyous and hopeful than he had been on the preced- 
ing occasion. But again, as if by some extraordinary 
fatality, the weather interposed an obstacle to the realiza- 
tion of the design. The vessels were ready for sea, the 
troops were on board, nothing was wanted but a slant of 
wind to enable the fleet to get out. But for five weeks it 
continued to blow steadily in the adverse direction. The 
supplies ran low ; the patience of the officers and of the 
government became exhausted — the troops were disem- 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 18 

barked, and the project abandoned ! The second failure 
in a matter of such weight and importance was a heavy 
blow to the heart of the brave Tone. Elaborate and 
costly efforts like those which had ended so poorly, he 
felt, could not often be repeated ; the drift of the war was 
cutting out other work for the fleets and armies of France 
and her allies, and the unwelcome conviction began to 
settle darkly on his mind that never again would he see 
such a vision of hope for dear Ireland as that which had 
shone before him on those two occasions, and vanished in 
doubt and gloom. 

Yet there was no need to despair. Assurances reached 
Tone every day that the defeat and humiliation of 
England was a settled resolve of the French government, 
one which they would never abandon. And for a time 
everything seemed to favor the notion that a direct stroke 
at the heart- of England was intended. In the latter part 
of 1797, the Directory ordered the formation of "The 
Army of England," the command of which was given to 
General Buonaparte. Tone's heart again beat high with 
hope, for now matters looked more promising than ever. 
He was in constant communication with some of the chief 
officers of the expedition, and in the month of December 
he had several interviews with Buonaparte himself, which, 
however, he could hardly consider of a satisfactory nature. 
On the 20th of May, 17*98, General Buonaparte embarked 
on board the fleet at Toulon and sailed off — not for 
Ireland or England, but for Egypt. 

On the Irish leaders at home these repeated disappoint- 
ments fell with terrible effect. The condition of the 
country was daily growing more critical. The govern- 
ment, now thoroughly roused and alarmed, and persuaded 
that the time for " vigorous measures n had arrived, was 
grappling with the conspiracy in all directions. Still 
those men would, if they could, have got the people to 
possess their souls in patience and wait for aid from abroad 
before unfurling the banner of insurrection j for they were 
constant in their belief that, without the presence of a dis- 
ciplined army on Irish soil to consolidate their strength 
and direct it, a revolutionary effort of the Irish people 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 19 

could end only in disaster. But the government had 
reasons of their own for wishing to set an Irish rebellion 
afoot at this time, and they took measures to precipitate 
the rising. The arrest of the delegates at the house of 
Oliver Bond in Dublin, and the capture of Lord Edward 
Fitzgerald, contributed to this end ; but these things the 
country might have peaceably endured, if no more dreadful 
trial had been put upon it. What could not be endured 
was the system of riot and outrage and murder, to which 
the unfortunate peasantry were then given over. "Words 
fail to describe its cruelty and its horrors. It was too 
much for human nature to bear. On the 23d of May, 
three days after Buonaparte had sailed from Toulon for 
Alexandria, the Irish insurrection broke out. The news 
of the occurrence created the most intense excitement 
among the Irish refugees then in Paris. Tone rushed to 
and fro to the Directory and to the generals, pleading for 
the despatch of some assistance to his struggling country- 
men. Various plans were suggested and taken into con- 
sideration, but, while time was being wasted in this way, 
the military forces of the British government were rapidly 
suppressing the insurrection of the unarmed and undis- 
ciplined Irish peasantry. In this condition of affairs a 
gallant, but rash and indiscreet French officer, General 
Humbert, resolved that he would commit the Directory 
to action, by starting at once with a small force for the 
coast of Ireland. Towards the middle of August, calling 
together the merchants and magistrates of Rochelle, " he 
forced them to advance a small sum of money, and all 
that he wanted, on military requisition j and embarking 
on board a few frigates and transports with 1,000 men, 
1,000 spare muskets, 1,000 guineas, and a few pieces of 
artillery, he compelled the captains to set sail for the 
most desperate attempt which is, perhaps, recorded in 
history." Three Irishmen were on board the fleet — 
Matthew Tone, brother to Theobald, Bartholomew Teeling, 
and Sullivan, an officer in the French service, who was 
enthusiastically devoted to the Irish cause, and had 
rendered much aid to his patriotic countrymen in France. 
Humbert landed at Killala, routed with his little handful 



20 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

of men a large force of the royal troops, and held his 
ground until General Lake, with 20,000 men, marched 
against him. After a resistance sufficient to maintain 
the honor of the French arms, Humbert's little force 
surrendered as prisoners of war. The Irish who had joined 
his standard were shown no mercy. The peasantry were 
cruelly butchered. Of those who had accompanied him 
from France, Sullivan, who was able to pass as a French- 
man, escaped ; Teeling and Matthew Tone were brought 
in irons to Dublin, tried, and executed. The news of 
Humbert's expedition, and the temporary success that had 
attended it, created much excitement in France, and stirred 
up the Directory to attempt something for Ireland more 
worthy of the fame and power of the French nation, and 
more in keeping with their repeated promises to the leaders 
of the Irish movement. But their fleet was at the time 
greatly reduced, and their resources were in a state of dis- 
organization. They mustered for the expedition only one 
sail of the line and eight small frigates, commanded by 
Commodore Bompart, conveying 5,000 men under the 
leadership of General Hardy. On board the admiral's 
vessel, which was named the Hoche, was the heroic 
Theobald Wolfe Tone. He knew this expedition had no 
chance of success, but he had all along declared that, " if 
the government sent only a corporal's guard, he felt it 
his duty to go along with them.' 7 The vessels sailed 
on the 20th of September, 1798 ; it was not till the 
11th October that they arrived off Lough S willy — simul- 
taneously with an English squadron that had been on the 
look-out for them. The English ships were about equal 
in number to the French, but were of a larger class, and 
carried a much heavier armament. The French admiral 
directed some of his smaller craft to endeavor to escape 
by means of their light draught of water, and he counselled 
Tone to transfer himself to that one of them which had 
the best chance of getting away. The Frenchmen, he 
observed, would be made prisoners of war, but for the 
Irish rebel a worse fate was reserved, if he should fall 
into the hands of his enemies. But to this suggestion the 
noble-hearted Tone declined to accede. " Shall it be 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 21 

said," he replied, " that I fled while the French were 
fighting the battles of my country?" In a little time the 
Hoche was surrounded by four sail of the line and one 
frigate, which poured their shot into her upon all sides. 
During six hours she maintained the unequal combat, 
fighting " till her masts and rigging were cut away, her 
scuppers flowed with blood, her wounded filled the cock- 
pit, her shattered ribs yawned at each new stroke, and let 
in five feet of water in the hold, her rudder was carried 
off, and she floated a dismantled wreck on the water ; her 
sails and cordage hung in shreds, nor could she reply 
with a single gun from her dismounted batteries to the 
ttnabating cannonade of the enemy." During the action 
Tone commanded one of the batteries " and fought with 
the utmost desperation, as if he was courting death." 
But, as often has happened in similar cases, death seemed 
to shun him, and he was reserved for a more tragic fate. 

The French officers who survived the action, and had 
been made prisoners of war, were, some days subse- 
quently, invited to breakfast with the Earl of Cavan, who 
commanded in the district in which they had been landed. 
Tone, who, up to that time, had escaped recognition, was 
one of the party, and sat undistinguished among them, 
until Sir George Hill, who had been a fellow-student of 
his in Trinity College, entered the room and accosted him 
by his name. This was done, not inadvertently, but with 
the intention of betraying him. In a moment he was in 
the hands of a party of military and police, who were in 
waiting for him in the next room. Seeing that they were 
about to put him in fetters, he complained indignantly of 
the offering of such an insult to the uniform which he 
wore, and the rank — that of Chef de Brigade — which he 
bore in the French army. He cast off his regimentals, 
protesting that they should not be so sullied, and then, 
offering his limbs to the irons, exclaimed: "For the 
cause which I have embraced, I feel prouder to wear 
these chains, than if I were decorated with the Star and 
Garter of England." He was hurried off to Dublin, and, 
though the ordinary tribunals were sitting at the time, 
and the military tribunals could have no claim on him, as 



22 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

he had never belonged to the English army, he was put 
on his trial before a court-martial. This was absolutely 
an illegal proceeding, but his enemies were impatient for 
his blood, and would not brook the chances and the 
delays of the ordinary procedure of law. On the 
10th of November, 1798, his trial, if such it might be 
called, took place in one of the Dublin barracks. He 
appeared before the Court, "dressed," says the Dublin 
Magazine for November, 1798, "in the French uniform: 
a large cocked hat, with broad gold lace and the tri-colored 
cockade ; a blue uniform coat, with gold-embroidered 
collar and two large gold epaulets j blue pantaloons, with 
gold-laced garters at the knees ; and short boots, bound 
at the tops with gold lace." In his bearing there was 
no trace of excitement. " The firmness and cool serenity 
of his whole deportment," writes his son, "gave to the 
awe-struck assembly the measure of his soul." The pro- 
ceedings of the Court are detailed in the following 
report which we copy from the M Life of Tone," by his 
son, published at Washington, U. S., in 1826 : — 

The members of the court having been sworn, the Judge Advo- 
cate called on the prisoner to plead guilty or not guilty to the 
charge of having acted traitorously and hostilely against the King. 
Tone replied: — 

"I mean not to give the court any useless trouble, and wish to 
spare them the idle task of examining witnesses. I admit all the 
facts alleged, and only request leave to read an address which I 
have prepared for this occasion." 

Colonel Daly: — " I must warn the prisoner that, in acknowl- 
edging those facts, he admits, to his prejudice, that he has acted 
traitorously against his Majesty. Is such his intention V 

Tone: — " Stripping this charge of the technicality of its terms, 
it means, I presume, by the word traitorously, that I have been 
found in arms against the soldiers of the King in my native country. 
I admit this accusation in its most extended sense, and request again 
to explain to the court the reasons and motives of my conduct." 

The court then observed they would hear his address, provided, 
he kept himself within the bounds of moderation. 

Tone rose, and began in these words: — "Mr. President and 
Gentlemen of the Court- Martial, I mean not to give you the trouble 
of bringing judicial proof to convict me legally of having acted in 
hostility to the government of his Britannic Majesty in Ireland. I 
admit the fact. From my earliest youth I have regarded the con- 
nection between Great Britain and Ireland as the curse of the Irish 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 23 

nation, and felt convinced that, whilst it lasted, this country could 
never he free nor happy. My mind has been confirmed in this 
opinion by the experience of every succeeding year, and the con- 
clusions which I have drawn from every fact before my eyes. In 
consequence, I was determined to employ all the powers which my 
individual efforts could move, in order to separate the two countries. 
That Ireland was not able of herself to throw off the yoke, I knew; 
I therefore sought for aid wherever it was to be found. In honorable 
poverty I rejected offers which, to a mau in my circumstances, 
might be considered highly advantageous. I remained faithful to 
what I thought the cause of my country, and sought in the French 
Republic an ally to rescue three millions of my countrymen from — " 

The President here interrupted the prisoner, observing that this 
language was neither relevant to the charge, nor such- as ought to be 
delivered in a public court. 

•A Member said it seemed calculated only to inflame the minds of 
a certain description of people (the United Irishmen), many of whom 
might be present, and that the court could not suffer it. 

The Judge Advocate said: — "If Mr. Tone meant this paper to 
be laid before his Excellency in the way of extenuation, it must have 
quite a contrary effect, if the foregoing part was suffered to remain." 

The President wound up by calling on the prisoner to hesitate 
before proceeding further in the same strain. 

Tone then continued : — " I believe there is nothing in what remains 
for me to say which can give any offence, I mean to express my 
feelings and gratitude towards the Catholic body, in whose cause I 
was engaged." 

President :— '" That seems to have nothing to say to the charge 
against you, to which you are only to speak. If you have anything 
to offer in defence or extenuation of the charge, the court will hear 
you, but they beg you will confine yourself to that subject." 

Tone: — "I shall, then, confine myself to some points relative 
to my connection with the French army. Attached to no party in 
the French Republic — without interest, without money, without in- 
trigue — the openness and integrity of my views raised me to a high 
and confidential rank in its armies. I obtained the confidence of the 
Executive Directory, the approbation of my generals, and, I will 
venture to add, the esteem and affection of my brave comrades. 
When I review these circumstances, I feel a secret and internal 
consolation which no reverse of fortune, no sentence in the power 
of this court to inflict, can deprive me of, or weaken in any degree. 
Under the flag of the French Republic I originally engaged with a 
view to save and liberate my own country. For that purpose I 
have encountered the chances of war amongst strangers ; for that 
purpose I repeatedly braved the terrors of the ocean, covered, as I 
knew it to be, with the triumphant fleets of that power which in 
was my glory and my duty to oppose. I have sacrificed all my 
views in life; I have courted poverty; I have left a beloved wife 
unprotected, and children whom I adored, fatherless. After such a 
sacrifice in a cause which I have always considered— conscientiously 



24 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

considered — as the cause of justice and freedom, it is no great effort, 
at this day, to add the sacrifice of my life. But I hear it said that 
this unfortunate country has been a prey to all sorts of horrors. I 
sincerely lament it. I beg, however, it may be remembered that I 
have been absent four years from Ireland. To me these sufferings 
can never be attributed. I designed, by fair and open war, to pro- 
cure the separation of the two countries. For open war I was 
prepared, but, instead of that, a system of private assassination has 
taken place. I repeat, whilst I deplore it, that it is not chargeable 
on me. Atrocities, it seems, have been committed on both sides. I 
do not less deplore them. I detest them from my heart; and to 
those who know my character and sentiments, I may safely appeal 
for the truth of this assertion: with them I need no justification. 
In a case like this, success is everything. Success, in the eyes of 
the vulgar, fixes its merits. Washington succeeded, and Kosciusko 
failed. After a combat nobly sustained — a combat which would 
have excited the respect and sympathy of a generous enemy — my 
fate has been to become a prisoner, to the eternal disgrace of those 
who gave the orders. I was brought here in irons like a felon. I 
mention this for the sake of others; for me, I am indifferent to it. 
I am aware of the fate which awaits me, and scorn equally the 
tone of complaint and that of supplication. As to the connection 
between this country and Great Britain, I repeat it — all that has been 
imputed to me (words, writings, and actions), I here deliberately 
avow. I have spoken and acted with reflection and on principle, 
and am ready to meet the consequences. Whatever be the sentence 
of the coui't, I am prepared tor it. Its members will surely 
discharge their duty — I shall take care not to be wanting in mine." 

The court having asked if he wished to make any further obser- 
vation, 

Tone said: — " I wish to offer a few words relative to one single 
point — the mode of punishment. In France our emigres, who 
stand nearly in the same situation in which I now stand before you, 
are condemned to be shot. I ask that the court shall adjudge me 
the death of a soldier, and let me be shot by a platoon of grenadiers. 
I request this indulgence, rather in consideration of the uniform I 
wear— the uniform of a Chef de Brigade m the French army— than 
from any personal regard to myself. Iu order to evince my claim 
to this favor, I beg that the court may take the trouble to peruse 
my commission and letters of service iu the French army. It will 
appear from these papers that I have not received them as a mask 
to cover me, but that I have been long and bona fide an officer in 
the French service." 

Judge Advocate: — "You must feel that the papers you allude 
to will serve as undeniable proof against you." 

Tone: — "Oh, I know they will. I have already admitted the 
facts, and I now admit the papers as full proof of conviction." 

[The papers were then examined : they consisted of a brevet of 
Chef de Brigade from the Directory, signed by the Minister of 
War, of a letter of service granting to him the rank of Adjutant- 
General, and of a passport. ] 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 25 

General Loftus: — "In these papers you are designated as 
serving in the army of England." 

Tone : — "I did serve in that army, when it was commanded by 
Buonaparte, by Dessaix, and by Kilmaine, who is, as I am, an 
Irishman ; but I have also served elsewhere." 

The court requested if he had anything further to say. 

He said that nothing more occurred to him, except that the 
sooner his Excellency's approbation of the sentence was obtained 
the better. 

This is Tone's speech, as reported in the public prints 
at that time, but the recently-published " Correspon- 
dence' 7 of Lord Cornwallis — Lord-Lieutenant in those 
days — supplies a portion of the address which was never 
before published, the court having forbade the reading 
of it at the trial. The passage contains a noble outburst 
of gratitude towards the Catholics of Ireland. Tone 
himself, as every reader is aware, was a Protestant, and 
there can have been no reason for its suppression except 
the consideration that it was calculated to still more 
endear the prisoner to the hearts of his eountrymen. We 
now reprint it, and thus place it, for the first time, before 
the people for whom it was written : — 

" I have labored to create a people in Ireland, by raising three 
millions of my countrymen to the rank of citizens. I have labored to 
abolish the infernal spirit of religious persecution, by uniting the 
Catholics and Dissenters. To the former I owe more than ever 
can be repaid. The services I was so fortunate as to render them, 
they rewarded munificently; but they did more. When the public 
cry was raised against me— when the friends of my youth swarmed 
off and left me alone — the Catholics did not desert me ; they had 
the virtue even to sacrifice their own interests to a rigid principle of 
honor; they refused though strongly urged, to disgrace a man 
who, whatever his conduct towards the government might have 
been, had faithfully and conscientiously discharged his duty 
towards them ; and in so doing, though it was in my own case, 
I will say they showed an instance of public virtue of which I know 
not whether there exists another example." 

The sad sequel of those proceedings is soon told. The 
request of the prisoner to receive a military execution was 
refused by the Viceroy, Lord Cornwallis, and Tone was 
sentenced to die " the death of a traitor," within forty- 
eight hours from the time of his conviction. But he — 



26 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

influenced, it must be confessed, by a totally mistaken 
feeling- of pride, and yielding to a weakness which every 
Christian heart should be able to conquer — resolved that, 
rather than allow his enemies to have the satisfaction of 
dangling his body from a gibbet, he would become his 
own executioner. On the night of the 11th of November 
be contrived, while lying unobserved in his cell, to open 
a vein in his neck with a penknife. No intelligence of 
this fact had reached the public, when, on the morning of 
the 12th, the intrepid and eloquent advocate, John 
Philpot Curran, made a motion in the Court of King's 
Bench for a writ of Habeas Corpus to withdraw the 
prisoner from the custody of the military authorities, and 
transfer him to the charge of the civil power. The motion 
was granted immediately, Mr. Curran pleading that, if 
delay were made, the prisoner might be executed before 
the order of the court could be presented. A messenger 
was at once despatched from the court to the barrack with 
the writ. He returned to say that the officers in charge 
of the prisoner would obey only their military superiors. 
The Chief Justice issued his commands peremptorily : — 
" Mr. Sheriff, take the body of Tone into custody j take 
the Provost Marshal and Major Sandys into custody, and 
show the order of the court to General Craig." The 
Sheriff sped away, and soon returned with the news that 
Tone had wounded himself on the previous evening, and 
could not be removed. The Chief Justice then ordered a 
rule suspending the execution. For the space of seven 
days afterwards did the unfortunate gentleman endure the 
agonies of approaching death; on the 19th of November, 
1798, he expired. No more touching reference to his last 
moments could be given than the following pathetic and 
noble words traced by a filial hand, and published in the 
memoir from which we have already quoted : — 

" Stretched on his bloody pallet in a dungeon, the first 
apostle of Irish union and most illustrious martyr of Irish 
independence counted each lingering hour during the last 
seven days and nights of his slow and silent agony. No 
one was allowed to approach him. Far from his adored 
family, and from all those friends whom he loved so dearly, 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 21 

the only forms which flitted before his eyes were those of 
the grim jailor and his rough attendants — the only sound 
which fell on his dying ear the heavy tread of the sentry. 
He retained, however, the calmness of his soul and the pos- 
session of his faculties to the last. And the consciousness 
of dying for his country, and in the cause of justice and 
liberty, illumined like a bright halo his later moments and 
kept up his fortitude to the end. There is no situation 
under which those feelings will not support the soul of a 
patriot." 

Tone was born in Stafford- street, Dublin, on the 20th 
of June, 1764. His father was a coachmaker who carried 
on a thriving business; his grandfather was a comfort- 
able farmer who held land near Naas, county Kildare. 
In February, 1781, Tone entered Trinity College, Dublin; 
in January, 1787, he entered his name as a law student 
on the books of the Middle Temple, London, and in 1789 
he was called to the bar. His mortal remains repose in 
Bodenstown churchyard, county Kildare, whither parties 
of patriotic 3 7 oung men from the metropolis and the 
surrounding districts often proceed to lay a green wreath 
on his grave. His spirit lives, and will live forever, in 
the hearts of his countrymen. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



WILLIAM ORR. 



Twelve months before Wolfe Tone expired in his 
prison cell, one of the bravest of his associates paid with his 
life the penalty of his attachment to the cause of Irish inde- 
pendence. In the subject of this sketch, the United 
Irishmen found their first martyr; and time has left no 
darker blot on the administration of English rule than 
the execution of the high-spirited Irishman whose body 
swung from the gallows of Carriokfergus on the 14th of 
October, 1797. 

William Orr was the son of a farmer and bleach-green 
proprietor, of Ferranshane, in the county of Antrim. 
The family were in comfortable circumstances, and young 
Orr received a good education, which he afterwards turned 
to good account in the service of his country. We know 
little of his early history, but we find him, on growing up 
to manhood, an active member of the Society of United 
Irishmen, and remarkable for his popularity amongst 
his countrymen in the north. His appearance, not less 
than his principles and declarations, was calculated to 
captivate the peasantry amongst whom he lived ; he stood 
six feet two inches in height, was a perfect model of sym- 
metry, strength, and gracefulness, and the expression of 
his countenance was open, frank, and manly. He was 
always neatly and respectably dressed — a prominent 
feature in his attire being a green necktie, which he wore 
even in his last confinement. 

One of the first blows aimed by the government against 
the United Irishmen was the passing of the Act of Par- 
liament (36 G-eorge III), which constituted the adminis- 
tration of their oath a capital felony. This piece of 
legislation, repugnant in itself to the dictates of reason 
and justice, was intended as no idle threat ; a victim 
was looked for to suffer under its provisions, and William 
Orr, the champion of the northern Presbyterian patriots, 
was doomed to serve the emergency. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 29 

He was arraigned, tried, and convicted at Carrickfergus 
on a charge of having administered the United Irishman s 
oath to a soldier named Wheatly. The whole history of 
the operations of the British law courts in Ireland contains 
nothing more infamous than the record of that trial. We 
now know, as a matter of fact, that the man who tendered 
the oath to Wheatly was William M'Keever, a well-known 
member of the societv, who subsequently made his escape 
to America. But this was not a case, such as sometimes 
happens, of circumstantial evidence pointing to a wrong 
conclusion. The only evidence against Orr was the 
unsupported testimony of the soldier Wheatly; and after 
hearino- Curran's defence of the prisoner, there could be no 
possible doubt of his innocence. But Orr was a doomed 
man — the government had decreed his death beforehand; 
and in this case, as in every other, the bloodthirsty agents 
of the crown did not look in vain for Irishmen to cooperate 
with them in their infamy. _ 

At six o'clock in the evening the jury retired to con- 
sider their verdict. The scene that followed in the jury- 
room is described in the sworn affidavits of some of its 
participators. The jury were supplied with supper by 
{he crown officials ; a liberal supply of intoxicating 
beverages, wines, brandy, etc., being included in the 
refreshments. In their sober state several of the jury- 
men—amongst them Alexander Thompson, of Cushendall, 
the foreman— had refused to agree to a verdict of guilty. 
It was otherwise, however, when the decanters had been 
emptied, and when threats of violence were added to the 
bewildering effects of the potations in which they indulged. 
Thompson was threatened by his more unscrupulous 
companions with being wrecked, beaten, and " not left 
with sixpence in the world," and similar means were used 
ao-ainst the few who refused with him to return a verdict 
of guiltv. At six in the morning, the jury, not a man ot 
whom bv this time was sober, returned into court with a 
verdict of guiltv, recommending the prisoner at the same 
time, in the strongest manner, to mercy. Next day _Urr 
was placed at the bar, and sentenced to death by Lord 
Yelverton, who, it is recorded, at the conclusion ot ins 



30 SPEECHES FEOM THE DOCK. 

address, burst into tears. A motion was made by Curran 
in arrest of judgment, chiejly on the grounds of the 
drunkenness of the jury, but the judges refused to entertain 
the objection. The following is the speech delivered by 
William Or after the verdict of the jury had been an- 
nounced : — 



" My friends and fellow-countrymen : — In the thirty-first year of 
my life I have been sentenced to die upon the gallows, and this 
sentence has been in pursuance of a verdict of twelve men, who 
should have been indifferently and impartially chosen. How far 
they have been so, I leave to that country from which they have 
been chosen, to determine ; and how far they have discharged their 
duty, I leave to their God and to themselves. They have, in pro- 
nouncing their verdict, thought proper to recommend me as an object 
of humane mercy. In return, I pray to God, if they have erred, to 
have mercy upon them. The judge who condemned me humanely 
shed tears in uttering my sentence. But whether he did wisely in 
so highly commending the wretched informer who swore away 
my life, I leave to his own cool reflection, solemnly assuring him and 
all the world, with my dying breath, that that informer was fore- 
sworn. 

'■'The law under which I suffer is surely a severe one — may the 
makers and promoters of it be justified in the integrity of their 
motives and the purity of their own lives ! By that law I am 
stamped a felon, but my heart disdains the imputation. 

" My comfortable lot and industrious course of life, best refuted 
the charge of being an adventurer for plunder ; but if to have loved 
my country, to have known its wrongs, to have felt the injuries 
of the persecuted Catholics, and to have united with them and all 
other religious persuasions in the most orderly and least sanguinary 
means of procuring redress, — if those be felonies, I am a felon, but 
not otherwise. Had my counsel (for whose honorable exertions I 
am indebted) prevailed in their motions to have me tried for high 
treason, rather than under the insurrection law, I should have been 
entitled to a full defence, and my actions have been better vindi- 
cated; but that was refused, and I must now submit to what has 
passed. 

" To the generous protection of my country I leave a beloved 
wife, who has been constant and true to me, and whose grief for my 
fate has already nearly occasioned her death. I have five living 
children, who have been my delight. May they love their country 
as I have done, and die for it, if needful ! 

" Lastly, a false and ungenerous publication having appeared in 
a newspaper, stating certain alleged confessions of guilt on my part, 
and thus striking at my reputation, which is dearer to me than 
life, I take this solemn method of contradicting the calumny. I 
was applied to by the high-sher»ff) and the Rev, William Bristow, 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 31 

sovereign of Belfast, to make a confession of guilt, who used en- 
treaties to that effect : this I peremptorily refused. If I thought 
myself guilty, I would freely confess it, but, on the contrary, I glory 
in my innocence, 

" I trust that all my virtuous countrymen will bear me in their 
kind remembrance, and continue true and faithful to each other as 
I have been to all of them. With this last wish of my heart — ■ 
nothing doubting of the success of that cause for which I suffer, 
and hoping for God's merciful forgiveness of such offences as my 
frail nature may have at any time betrayed me into — I die in peace 
and charity with all mankind." 

Hardly had sentence of death been passed on William 
Orr, when compunction seemed to seize on those who 
had aided in securing that result. The witness Wheatly, 
who subsequently became insane, and is believed to have 
died by his own hand, made an affidavit before a magis- 
trate, acknowledging that he had sworn falsely against 
Orr. ' Two of the jury made depositions setting forth 
that they had been induced to join in the verdict of 
guilty while under the influence of drink; two others 
swore that they had been terrified into the same course 
by threats of violence. 

These depositions were laid before the viceroy, but 
Lord Camden, the then Lord- Lieutenant, was deaf to all 
appeals. Well might Orr exclaim within his dungeon 
that the government "had laid down a system having 
for its object murder and devastation." The prey was 
in the toils of the hunters, on whom all appeals of justice 
and humanity were wasted. 

Orr was hung, as we have said, in the town of Oarrick- 
fergus, on the 14th of October, 1797. It is related that 
the inhabitants of the town, to express their sympathy 
with the patriot about being murdered by law, and to 
mark their abhorrence of the conduct of the government 
towards him, quitted the town en masse on the day of 
his execution. 

His fate excited the deepest indignation throughout 
the country ; it was commented on in words of lire by 
the national writers of the period, and through many an 
after year the watchword and rallying cry of the United 
Irishmen was — 

"remember orr' 7 



32 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



HENRY AND JOHN SHEARES. 

Among the many distinguished Irishmen who acted 
prominent parts in the stormy events of 1798, and whose 
names come down to us hallowed by the sufferings and 
sacrifices inseparable in those dark days from the lot of 
an Irish patriot, there are few whose fate excited more 
sympathy, more loved in life, more honored in death, 
than the brothers, John and Henry Sheares. Even in 
the days of Emmet and Wolfe Tone, of Russell and 
Fitzgerald, when men of education, talent, and social 
standing were not few in the national ranks, the Sheareses 
were hailed as valuable accessions to the cause, and were 
recognized by the United Irishmen as heaven- destined 
leaders for the people. It is a touching story, the history 
of their patriotic exertions, their betrayal, trial, and 
execution ; but it is by studying such scenes in our 
history that Irishmen can learn to estimate the sacrifices 
which were made in bygone days for Ireland, and attach 
a proper value to the memory of the patriots who made 
them. 

Henry and John Sheares were sons of John Sheares, a 
banker in Cork, who sat in the Irish parliament for the 
borough of Clonakilty. The father appears to have been 
a kindly-disposed, liberal-minded man, and numerous 
stories are told of his unostentatious charity and bene- 
volence. Henry, the elder of the two sons, was born in 
1753, and was educated in Trinity College, Dublin. 
After leaving college he purchased a commission in the 
51st regiment of foot ; but the duties of a military officer 
were ill suited to his temperament and .disposition, and 
the young soldier soon resigned his commission to pursue 
the more congenial occupation of law student. He was 
called to the bar in 1790; his brother John, his junior 
by three years, who had adopted the same profession, 
obtained the rank of barrister-at-law two years previously. 



SPEECHES FPwOM THE DOCK. 33 

The brothers differed from each other widely in character 
and disposition. Henry was gentle in manners, modest 
and unassuming, but firmly attached to his principles, 
and unswerving in his fidelity to the cause which he 
adopted; John was bold, impetuous, and energetic, ready 
to plan and to dare, fertile of resources, quick of resolve, 
and prompt of execution. To John the elder brother 
looked for guidance and example, and his gentle nature 
was ever ruled by the more fiery and impulsive spirit of 
his younger brother. On the death of the father Henry 
Sheares came in for property to the value of c£ 1,200 per 
annum, which his rather improvident habits soon dimin- 
ished by one-half. Both brothers, however, obtained 
large practice at their profession, and continued in affluent 
circumstances up to the day of their arrest. 

In 1792 the two brothers visited Paris, and this ex- 
cursion seems to have formed the turning-point of their 
lives and fortunes. The French Revolution was in full 
swing, and in the society of Roland, Brissot, and other 
republican leaders, the young Irishmen imbibed the love 
of freedom, and impatience of tyranny and oppression, 
which they clung to so faithfully, and which distinguished 
them so remarkably during the remainder of their lives. 
On returning to Ireland in January, 1793, the brothers 
joined the ranks of the United Irishmen. John at once 
became a prominent member of the society, and his signa- 
ture appears to several of the spirited and eloquent- 
addresses by which the Dublin branch sought from time 
to time to arouse the ardor and stimulate the exertions 
of their compatriots. The Society of United Irishmen 
looked for nothing more at this period than a thorough 
measure of parliamentary reform, household suffrage 
being the leading feature in their programme; but when 
the tyranny of the government drove the leaguers into 
more violent and dangerous courses ; when republican 
government and separation from England were inscribed 
on the banners of the society instead of electoral reform, 
and w 7 hen the selfish and the wavering had shrunk aside, 
the Sheareses still remained true to the United Irishmen, 
and seemed to grow more zealous and energetic in the 



34 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

cause of their country according as the mists of perplexity 
and danger gathered around it. 

To follow out the history of the Sheareses' connection 
with the United Irishmen would be foreign to our inten- 
tion and to the scope of this work. The limits of our 
space oblige us to pass over the ground at a rapid pace, 
and we shall dismiss the period of the Sheareses' lives 
comprised in the years between 1793 and 1798, by saying 
that, during that period, while practising their profession 
with success, they devoted themselves, with all the earnest- 
ness of their nature, to the furtherance of the objects 
of the United Irishmen. In March, 1798, the affairs 
of the organization became critical; the arrest of the 
Directory at Oliver Bond's deprived the party of its 
best and most trusted leaders, besides placing in the 
hands of the government a mass of information relative 
to the plans and resources of the conspirators. To fill 
the gap thus caused, John Sheares was soon appointed a 
member of the Directory, and he threw himself into the 
work with all the ardor and energy of his nature. The 
fortunes of the society had assumed a desperate phase 
when John Sheares became its ruling spirit. Tone was 
in France ; O'Connor was in England j Russell, Emmet, 
and Fitzgerald were in prison. But Sheares was not 
disheartened ; he directed all his efforts towards bringing 
about the insurrection for which his countrymen had so 
long been preparing, and the 23d of May, 1798, was 
fixed on by him for the outbreak. He was after visiting 
Wexford and Kildare, and making arrangements in those 
counties for the rising, and was on the verge of starting 
for Cork on a similar mission, when the hand of treachery 
cut short his career, and the gates of Kilmainham Prison 
opened to receive him. 

Amongst all the human monsters who filled the ranks 
of the government informers in that dark and troubled 
period, not one appears to merit a deeper measure of 
infamy than Captain Warnesford Armstrong, the en- 
trapper and betrayer of the Sheareses. Having obtained 
an introduction to John, he represented himself as a 
zealous and hard-working member of the organization, 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 35 

and soon wormed himself completely into the confidence 
of his victims. He paid daily visits to the house of the 
ShearjBses in Baggot-street, chatted with their families, 
and fondled the children of Henry Sheares upon his 
knee. We have it on his own testimony that each inter- 
view with the men whose confidence he was sharing was 
followed by a visit to the Castle. We need not go through 
the sickening details of this vile story of treachery and 
fraud. On the 2 1st of May the Sheareses were arrested 
and lodged in prison, and on the 12th of the following 
month Armstrong appeared against them in the witness 
box. The trial was continued through the night — Toler, 
of infamous memory, who had been created attorney- 
general expressly for the occasion, refusing Curran's 
request for an adjournment j and it was eight o'clock in 
the morning of the 13th when the jury, who had been 
but seventeen minutes absent, returned into court with a 
verdict of guilty against both prisoners. 

After a few hours' adjournment the court reassembled 
to pass sentence. It was then that John Sheares, speak- 
ing in a firm tone, addressed the court as follows : — 

"My Lords : — I wish to offer a few words before sentence is pro- 
nounced, because there is a weight pressing on my heart much 
greater than that of the sentence which is to come from the court. 
There has been, my lords, a weight pressing on my mind from the 
first moment I heard the indictment read upon which 1 was tried; 
but that weight has been more peculiarly pressing upon my heart 
when I found the accusation in the indictment enforced and sup- 
ported upon the trial. That weight would be left insupportable if 
it were not for this opportunity of discharging it : I shall feel it to 
be insupportable since a verdict of my country has stumped that 
evidence as well founded. Do not think, my lords, that I am 
about to make a declaration against the verdict of the jury or the 
persons concerned with the trial; I am only about to call to your 
recollection a part of the charge at which my soul shudders, and, 
if I had no opportunity of renouncing it before your lordships and 
this auditory, no courage would be sufficient to support me. The 
accusation of which I speak, while I linger here yet a minute, is 
that of holding out to the people of Ireland a direction to give no 
quarter to the troops fighting for its defence ! My lords, let me say 
thus, that if there be any acquaintances in this crowded court — I 
do not say my intimate friends, but acquaintances — who do not 
know what I say is truth, I shall be reputed the wretch which I 
am not; I say, if any acquaintance of mine can believe that /could 



36 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

utter a recommendation of giving no quarter to a yielding and 
an offending foe, it is not the death that I am about to suffer that I 
deserve — no punishment could be adequate to such a crime. My 
lords, I can not only acquit my soul of such an intention, hut I 
declare, in the presence of that God before whom I must shortly 
appear, that the favorite doctrine of my heart was, that no. human 
being should suffer death but lohen absolute necessity required it. 
My lords, I feel a consolation in making this declaration, which 
nothing else can afford me, because it is not only a justification 
of myself, but, where I am sealing my life with that breath which 
cannot be suspected of falsehood, what I say may make some im- 
pression upon the minds of men not holding the same doctrine. I 
declare to God I know of no crime but assassination which can 
eclipse or equal that of which I am accused. I discern no shade of 
guilt between that and taking away the life of a foe, by putting a 
bayonet to his heart when he is yielding and surrendering. I do 
request the bench to believe that of me — I do request my country 
to believe that of me — I am sure God will think that of me. Now, 
my lords, I have no favor to ask of the court; my country has 
decided I am guilty, and the law says I shall suffer — it sees that I 
am ready to suffer. But, my lords, I have a favor to request of 
the court that does not relate to myself. My lords, I have a 
brother whom I -have even loved dearer than myself: but it is not 
from any affection for him alone that I am induced to make the 
request. He is a man, and therefore, I would hope, prepared to die 
if he stood as I do — though I do not stand unconnected; but he 
stands more dearly connected. In short, my lords, to spare your 
feelings and my own, I do not pray that that I should not die, 
but that the husband, the father, the son — all comprised in one 
person — holding these relations dearer in life to him than any other 
man I know — for such a man I do not pray a pardon— for that is 
not in the power of the court — but I pray a respite for such time as 
the court in its humanity and discretion shall think proper. You 
have heard, my lords, that his private affairs require arrangement. 
When I address myself to your lordships, it is with the knowledge 
you will have of all the sons of our aged mother being gone. Two 
have perished in the service of the King — one very recently. I 
only request that, disposing of me with what swiftness either the 
public mind or justice requires, a respite may be given to my 
brother, that the family may acquire strength to bear it all. That 
is all I wish ; I shall remember it to my last breath, and I shall 
offer up my prayers for you to that Being who has endued us all 
with the sensibility to feel. That is all I ask. I have nothing 
more to say." 

It was four o'clock, p.m., when the judge proceeded to 
pass sentence, and the following morning was appointed 
for the double execution. At midday on Saturday, 
July 14th, the hapless men were removed to the room 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 37 

adjoining the place of execution, where they exchanged 
a last embrace. They were then pinioned, the black 
caps put over their brows, and holding each other by the 
hand, they tottered out on the platform. The elder 
brother was somewhat moved by the terrors of his situa- 
tion, but the younger bore his fate with unflinching firm- 
ness. They were launched together into eternity — the 
same moment saw them dangling lifeless corpses before 
the prison walls. They had lived in affectionate unity, 
inspired by the same motives, laboring for the same 
cause, and death did not dissolve the tie. " They died 
hand in hand, like true brothers." 

When the hangman's hideous office was completed, the 
bodies were taken down, and the executioner, in accord- 
ance with the barbarous custom of the time, proceeded to 
sever the heads from the bodies. It is said, however, that 
only on the body of Henry Sheares was that horrible act 
performed. While the arrangements for the execution 
were in progress, Sir Jonah Barrington had been making 
intercession with Lord Clare on their behalf, and beseech- 
ing at least a respite. His lordship declared that the life 
of John Sheares could not be spared, but said that Henry 
might possibly have something to say which would induce 
the government to commute his sentence 5 he furnished 
Sir Jonah with an order to delay the execution one hour, 
and told him to communicate with Henry Sheares on the 
subject. " I hastened," writes Sir Jonah, " to Newgate, 
and arrived at the very moment that the executioner was 
holding up the head of my old college friend, and saying, 
' Here is the head of a traitor.' n The fact of this order 
having been issued by the government may have so far 
interrupted the bloody work on the scaffold as to save 
the remains of the younger Sheares from mutilation. The 
bodies of the patriots were interred on the night of execu- 
tion in the vaults of St. Michan's church, where, enclosed 
in oaken coffins, marked, in the usual manner, with the 
names and ages of the deceased, they still repose. Many 
a pious visit has since been paid to those dim chambers — 
many a heart, filled with love and pity, has throbbed 
above those coffin-lids — many a tear has dropped upon 



38 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

them. But it is not a feeling of grief alone that is in- 
spired by the memory of those martyrs to freedom j hope, 
courage, constancy, are the lessons taught by their lives, 
and the patriotic spirit that ruled their career is still 
awake and active in Ireland. 




ROBERT EMMET. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 39 



ROBERT EMMET. 

In all Irish history there is no name which touches the 
Irish heart like that of Robert Emmet. We read, in 
that eventful record, of men who laid down their lives 
for Ireland amid the roar and crash of battle ; of others 
who perished by the headsman's axe or the halter of the 
hangman; of others whose eyes were closed forever in 
the gloom of English dungeons, and of many whose 
hearts broke amid the sorrows of involuntary exile; of 
men, too, who, in the great warfare of mind, rendered to 
the Irish cause services no less memorable and glorious. 
They are neither forgotten nor unhonored. The warrior 
figure of Hugh O'Neill is a familiar vision to Irishmen ; 
Sarsfield expiring on the foreign battle-field with that 
infinitely pathetic and noble utterance on his lips — 
" Would that this were for Ireland" — is a cherished re- 
membrance, and that last cry of a patriotic spirit dwells 
forever about our hearts; Grattan battling against a 
corrupt and venal faction, first to win and then to defend 
the independence of his councry, astonishing friends and 
foes alike by the dazzling splendor of his eloquence : 
and O'Connell on the hill-side pleading for the restora- 
tion of Ireland's rights, and rousing his countrymen to a 
struggle for them, are pictures of which we are proud — 
memories that will live in song and story while the Irish 
race has a distinct existence in the world. But in the 
character of Robert Emmet there was such a rare com- 
bination of admirable qualities, and in his history there 
are so many of the elements of romance, that the man 
stands before our mental vision as a peculiarly noble and 
loveable being, with claims upon our sympathies that are 
absolutely without a parallel. He had youth, talent, 
social position, a fair share of fortune, and bright pros- 
pects for the future on his side when he embarked in the 
defeat and ruin. Courage, genius, enthusiasm were his, 



40 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

high hopes and strong affections, all based upon and 
sweetened by a nature utterly free from guile. He was 
an orator and a poet j in the one art he had already 
achieved distinction, in the other he was certain to take 
a high place, if he should make that an object of his 
ambition. He was a true patriot, true soldier, and true 
lover. If the story of his political life is full of mel- 
ancholy interest, and calculated to awaken profound 
emotions of reverence for his memory, the story of his 
affections is not less touching. Truly, " there's not a line 
but hath been wept upon." So it is, that of all the heroic 
men who risked and lost everything for Ireland, none is 
so frequently remembered, none is thought of so tenderly 
as Robert Emmet. Poetry has cast a halo of light upon 
the name of the youthful martyr, and some of the 
sweetest strains of Irish music are consecrated to his 
memory. 

Robert Emmet was born on the 4th of March, 1778. 
He was the third son of Doctor Robert Emmet, a well- 
known and highly respectable physician of Dublin. 
Thomas Addis Emmet, already mentioned in these pages, 
the associate of Tone, the Sheareses, and other members, 
of the United Irish organization, was an elder brother of 
Robert, and his senior by some sixteen years. Just 
about the period when the United Irishmen were form- 
ing themselves into a secret revolutionary society, young- 
Emmet was sent to receive his education in Trinity 
College. There the bent of the lad's political opinions 
was soon detected j but among his fellow-students he 
found many and amongst them older heads than his 
own, who not only shared his views, but went beyond 
them in the direction of liberal and democratic principles. 
In the Historical Society — composed of the alumni of the 
college, and on whose books at this time were many 
names that subsequently became famous — those kindred 
spirits made for themselves many opportunities of giving 
expression to their sentiments, and showing that their 
hearts beat in unison with the great movement for human 
freedom which was then agitating the world. To their 
debates Emmet brought the aid of a fine intellect and a 



' SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 41 

fluent utterance, and he soon became the orator of the 
patriot party. 

So great was the effect created by his fervid eloquence 
and his admirable reasoning, that the heads of the college 
thought it prudent on several occasions to send one of 
the ablest of their body to take part in the proceedings, 
and assist in refuting the argumentation of the " young 
Jacobin." And to such extremeties did matters proceed 
at last that Emmet, with several of his political friends, 
was expelled the college, others less obnoxious to the 
authorities were subjected to a severe reprimand, and 
the society, thus terrorized and weakened, soon ceased to 
exist. Our national poet, Thomas Moore, the fellow- 
student and intimate friend of young Emmet, witnessed 
many of those displays of his abilities, and in his " Life 
and Death of Lord Edward Fitzgerald," speaks of him in 
terms of the highest admiration. "Were I," he says, 
"to number the men among all I have ever known who 
appeared to me to combine in the greatest degree pure 
moral worth with intellectual bower, I should, among 
the highest of the few, place Robert Emmet." "He 
was," writes the same authority, "wholly free from the 
follies and frailties of youth — though how capable he 
was of the most devoted passion events afterwards 
proved." Of his oratory he says, "I have heard little 
since that appeared to me of a loftier, or what is a far 
more rare quality in Irish eloquence, purer character." 
And the appearance of this greatly gifted youth, htf thus 
describes : " Simple in all his habits, and with, a repose 
of look and manner indicating but little movement 
within, it was only when the spring was touched that 
set his feelings, and through them his intellect in motion, 
that he at all rose above the level of ordinary men. No 
two individuals indeed conld be much more unlike to 
each other than was the same youth to himself before 
rising to speak and after; the brow that had appeared 
inanimate and almost drooping, at once elevating itself 
to all the consciousness of power, and the whole counte- 
nance and figure of the speaker assuming a change as of 
one suddenly inspired." 



42 SPEECHES FKOM THE DOCK. 

The expulsion of Emmet from the college occurred in 
the month of February, 1798. On the 12th of the fol- 
lowing month his brother, Thomas Addis Emmet, was 
arrested. The manner in which this noble-hearted 
gentleman took the oath of the United Irish Society, in 
the year 1795, is so remarkable that we cannot omit 
mention of it here. His services as a lawyer having been 
engaged in the defense of some persons who stood charged 
with having sworn in members of the United Irish 
organization — the crime for which William Or was sub- 
sequently tried and executed — he, in the course of the 
proceedings, took up the oath and read it with remark- 
able deliberation and solemnity. Then, taking into his 
hand the prayer book that lay on the table for the swear- 
ing of witnesses, and looking to the bench and around 
the court, he said aloud — 

" My Lords — Here, in the presence of this le^al court, 
this crowded auditory — in the presence of the Being that 
sees and witnesses, and directs this judicial tribunal — here, 
my lords, I, myself, in the presence of God, declare I take 
this oath." 

The terms of the oath at this time were, in fact, perfectly 
constitutional, having reference simply to attainment of a 
due representation of the Irish nation in parliament — still, 
the oath was that of a society declared to be illegal, and 
the administration of it had been made a capital offence. 
The boldness of the advocate in thus administering it to 
himself in open court appeared to paralyze the minds of 
the judges. They took no notice of the act, and what 
was even more remarkable, the prisoners, who were con- 
victed, received a lenient sentence. 

But to return to Robert Emmet — the event of 1798, it 
might be supposed, had a powerful effect on the feelings 
of the enthusiastic young patriot, and he was not free of 
active participation with the leaders of the movement in 
Dublin. He was, of course, an object of suspicion to the 
government, and it appears marvellous that they did not 
immediately take him into their safe keeping under the 
provisions of the Habeas Corpus Suspension Act. Ere 
long, however, he found that prudence would counsel his 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 43 

concealment, or his disappearance from the country, 
and lie took Lis departure for the Continent, where he 
met with a whole host of the Irish refugees ; and, in 1802, 
was joined by his brother and others of the political 
prisoners who bad been released from the confinement 
to which — in violation of a distinct agreement between 
them and the government — they had been subjected in 
Fort George, in Scotland. Their sufferings had not 
broken their spirit. There was hope still, they thought, 
for Ireland • great opportunities were about to dawn upon 
that often defeated, but still unconquerable nation, and 
they applied themselves to the task of preparing the Irish 
people to take advantage of them. 

At home the condition of affairs was not such as to 
discourage them. The people had not lost heart j the 
fighting spirit was still rife amongst them. The rebellion 
had been trampled out, but it had been sustained mainly 
by a county or two, and it had served to show that a 
general uprising of the people would be sufficient to 
sweep every N vestige of British power from the land. 
Then they had in their favor the exasperation against 
the government which was caused by that most infamous 
transaction, the passage of the Act of Union. But they 
found their chief encouragement in the imminence of 
another war between France and England. Once more, 
the United Irishmen put themselves into communication 
with Buonoparte, then First Consul, and again they re- 
ceived flattering promises of assistance. Robert Emmet 
obtained an interview with that great man, and learned 
from him that it was his settled purpose on the breaking 
out of hostilities, which could not long be deferred, to 
effect an invasion of England. Full of high hopes, Emmet 
returned to Dublin in October, 1802 j and as he was now 
in very heart of a movement for another insurrection, he 
took every precaution to avoid discovery. He passed 
under feigned names, and moved about as little as 
possible. He gathered together the remnants of the 
United Irish organization, and with some money of his 
own, added to considerable sums supplied to him by a 
Mr. Long, a merchant, residing at No. 4 Crow-street, 



44 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

and other sympathizers, he commenced the collection of 
an armament and military stores for his followers. In 
the month of May, 1803, the expected war between 
France and England broke out. This event of course 
raised still higher his hopes, and gave a great stimulus to 
his exertions. To and fro he went from one to another 
of the depots which he had established for the manufac- 
ture and storage of arms in various parts of the city, 
cheering, directing and assisting his men at their work. 
Pikes were got ready by the thousand, and ingeniously 
stowed away until they should be wanted ; rockets, hand- 
grenades, and other deadly missiles were carefully pre- 
pared; but an accidental explosion, which occurred, on 
the 16th of July, in one of these manufactories situated in 
Patrick-street, was very near leading to the discovery of 
the entire business, and had the effect of precipitating 
the outbreak. The government at this time had un- 
doubtedly got on the scent of the movement, and the 
leaders considered that no time was to be lost in bringing 
matters to a crisis. Emmet now took up his abode in 
the Marshalsea-lane depot, snatching his few hours of 
sleep " on a mattress, surrounded by all the implements 
of death." There he made a final arrangement of his 
plans, and communicated his instructions to his subordi- 
nates, fixing the 23d of July as the date for the rising. 

The history of that unfortunate attempt need not here 
be written. Suffice it to say that the arrangements mis- 
carried in nearly every particular. The men in the num- 
bers calculated upon did not assemble at the appointed 
time or in the appointed places, and the whole force that 
turned out in Thomas-street for the attack on the Castle 
did not number a hundred insurgents. They were joined 
by a riotous and noisy rabble ; and their unfortunate 
leader soon perceived that his following was, as had pre- 
viously been said of the king's troops, " formidable to every 
one but the enemy." They had not proceeded far on 
their way when a carriage, in which were Lord Kil warden, 
Chief Justice of the King's Bench, his daughter, and his 
nephew, the Rev. Mr. Wolfe, drove into the street. The 
vehicle was stopped, and the Chief Justice was imme- 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 45 

diately piked by a man in the crowd whose son he had 
some time previously condemned to execution. The 
clergyman also was pulled out of the carriage and put to 
death. To the lady no violence was offered, and Emmet 
himself, who had heard of the deplorable tragedy, rush- 
ing from the head of his party, bore her in his arms to 
an adjoining house No attack on the Castle took place, 
the insurgent party scattered and melted away, even 
before the appearance of military on the scene; and in 
little more than an hour from the time of his setting out 
on his desperate enterprise, Robert Emmet was a defeated 
and ruined man, a fugitive, with the whole host of 
British spies and bloodhounds employed to hunt him to 
the death. 

Yet he might have foiled them and got clear out of 
the country if his personal safety was all on earth he 
cared for. But in that noble heart of his there was one 
passion coexistent with his love of Ireland, and not un- 
worthy of the companionship, which forbade his imme- 
diate flight. With all that intensity of affection of which 
a nature so pure and so ardent as his was capable, he 
loved a being in every way worthy of him — a lady so 
gentle, and good, and fair, that, even to a less poetic 
imagination than his own, she might seem to be a fitting 
personification of his beloved Erin • and by her he was 
loved and trusted in return. Who is it that has not 
heard her name ? — who has not mourned over the story 
of Sarah Curran? In the ruin that had fallen on the 
hopes and fortunes of the patriot chief, the happiness of 
this amiable lady was involved. He would not leave 
without an interview with her — no ! though a thousand 
deaths should be the penalty. The delay was fatal to 
his chances of escape. For more than a month he re- 
mained in concealment, protected by the fidelity of 
friends, many of whom belonged to the humbler walks 
of life, and one of whom in particular — the heroic Anne 
Devlin, from whom neither proffered bribes nor cruel 
tortures could extort a single hint as to his place of 
abode — should ever be held in grateful remembrance by 
Irishmen. At length, on the 25th of August, the ill-fated 



46 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

young gentleman was arrested in the house of a Mrs. 
Palmer, at Harold's-eross. On the 19th of September 
he was put on his trial in the court-house, Green-street, 
charged with high treason. He entered on no defence, 
beyond making a few remarks in the course of the pro- 
ceedings with a view to the moral and political justifica- 
tion of his conduct. The jury, without leaving their 
box, returned a verdict of guilty against him ; after which, 
having been asked in due form why sentence of death 
should not be pronounced upon him, he delivered this 
memorable speech, every line of which is known and 
dear to the hearts of the Irish race : — 

"My Lords — I am asked what have I to say why sentence of 
death should not be pronounced on me, according to law. I have 
nothing to say that can alter your predetermination, nor that, it 
will become me to say, with any view to the mitigation of thai, 
sentence which yoa are to pronounce, and I must abide by. But I 
have that to say which interests me more than life, and which you 
have labored to destroy. I have much to say whv my reputation 
shonld be rescued from the load of false accusation and calumny 
which has been cast upon it. I do not imagine that, seated where 
you are, your mind can be so free from prejudice as to receive the 
least impression from what I am going to utter. I have no hopes 
that I can anchor my character in the breast of a court constituted 
and trammelled as this is. I only wish, and that is the utmost that 
I expect, that your lordships may suffer it to float down your 
memories untainted by the foul breath of prejudice, until it finds 
some more hospitable harbor to shelter it from the storms by 
which it is buffetted. Was I only to suffer death, after being 
adjudged guilty by your tribunal, I should bow in silence, and 
meet the fate that awaits me without a murmur; but the sentence 
of the law which delivers my body to the executioner will, through 
the ministry of the law, labor in its own vindication to consign 
my character to obloquy; for there must be guilt somewhere: 
whether in the sentence of the court, or in the catastrophe, time 
must determine. A man in -my situation has not only to encounter 
the difficulties of fortune, aud the force of power over minds which 
it has corrupted or subjugated, but the difficulties of established 
prejudice. The man dies, but his memory lives. That mine may 
not perish, that it may live in the respect of my countrymen, I 
seize upon this opportunity to vindicate myself from some of the 
charges alleged against me. When my spirit shall be Avatted to a 
more friendly port— when mv shade shall have joined the bands of 
those martyred heroes who have shed their blood on the scaffold 
and in the field in the defence of their country and of virtue, this is 
my hope — I wish that my memory and name may animate those 



SPEECHES EROM THE DOCK. 47 

who survive me, while I look down with complacency on the de- 
struction of that perfidious government which upholds its domina- 
tion by blasphemy of the Most High — which displays its power 
over man, as over the beasts of the forest — which sets man upon 
his brother, and lifts his hand, in the name of God, against the 
throat of his fellow who believes or doubts a little more or a little 
less than the. government standard — a government which is steeled 
to barbarity by the cries of the orphans, and the tears of the widows 
it has made." 

[Here Lord Norbury interrupted Mr. Emmet, saying, "that 
the mean and wicked enthusiasts who felt as he did, were not equal 
to the accomplishment of their wild designs.") 

"I appeal to the immaculate God — I swear by the throne of 
Heaven, before which I must shortly appear — by the blood of the 
murdered patriots who have gone before me — that my conduct has 
been, through all this peril, and through all my purposes, governed 
only by the conviction which I have uttered, and by no other view 
than that of the emancipation of ray country from the superin- 
human oppression under which she has so long and too patiently 
travailed; and I confidently hope that, -wild and chimerical as it 
may appear, there is still union and strength in Ireland to accom- 
plish this noblest of enterprises. Of this I speak with confidence 
of intimate knowledge, and with the consolation that appertains to 
that confidence. Think not, my lords, I say this for the petty 
gratification of giving you a transitory uneasiness. A man who 
never yet raised his voica to assert a lie will not hazard his character 
with posterity, by asserting a falsehood on a subject so important 
to his country, and on an occasion like this. Yes, my lords, a man 
who does not wish to have his epitaph written until his country is 
liberated, will not leave a weapon in the power of envy, or a pre- 
tence to impeach the probity which he means to preserve, even in 
the grave to which tyranny consigns him." 

[ Here he was again interrupted by the court.] 

" Again I say, that what I have spoken was not intended for 
your lordship, whose situation I commiserate rather than envy — 
my expressions were for my countrymen. If there is a true Irish- 
man present, let my last words cheer him in the hour of his 
affliction." 

[Here he was again interrupted. Lord Norbury said he did not 
sit there to hear treason.] 

" I have always understood it to be the duty of a judge, when a 
prisoner has been convicted, to pronounce the sentence of the law. 
I have also understood that judges sometimes think it their duty to 
hear with patience and to speak with humanity; to exhort the 
victim of the laws, and to offer, with tender benignity, their opinions 
of the motives by which he was actuated in the crime of which he 
was adjudged guilty. That a judge has thought it his duty so to 
have done, I have no doubt ; but where is the boasted freedom of 
your institutions — where is the vaunted impartiality, clemency, and 
mildness of your courts of justice, if an unfortunate prisoner, whom 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



your policy, and not justice, is about to deliver into the hands of 
the executioner, is not suffered to explain his motives sincerely and 
truly, and to vindicate the principles by which he was actuated? 
My lords, it may be a part of the system of angry justice to bow a 
man's mind by humiliation to the purposed ignominy of the 
scaffold ; but worse tome than the purposed shame or the scaffold's 
terrors, would be the shame of such foul and unfounded imputations 
as have been laid against me in this court. You, my lord, are a 
judge; lam the supposed culprit. I am a man; you are a man 
also. By a revolution of power we might change places, though we 
never could change characters. If I stand at the bar of this court 
and dare not vindicate my character, what a farce is your justice \ 
If I stand at this bar and dare not vindicate my character, how 
dare you calumniate it? Does the sentence of death, which your 
unhallowed policy inflicts on my body, condemn my tongue to 
silence and my reputation to reproach? Your executioner may 
abridge the period of my existence ; but while I exist, I shall not 
forbear to vindicate my character and motives from your aspersion*; 
and, as a man, to whom fame is dearer than life, I will make the 
last use of that life in doing justice to that reputation which is to 
live after me, and which is the only legacy I can leave to those I 
honor and love, and for whom I am proud to perish. As men, my 
lords, we must appear on the great dav at one common tribunal; 
and it will then remain for the Searcher of all hearts to show a 
collective universe, who was engaged in the most virtuous actions, 
or swayed by the purest motive — my country's oppressors, or '' 

[Here he was interrupted, and told to listen to the sentence of 
the law.] 

"My lords, will a dying man be denied the legal privilege of 
exculpating himself in the eyes of the community from an unde- 
served reproach, thrown upon him during his trial, by charging 
him with ambition, and attempting to cast away for a paltry con- 
sideration the liberties of his country? Why did your lordships 
insult me? Or rather, why insult justice, in demanding of me 
why sentence of death should not be pronounced against me I I 
know, my lords, that form prescribes that you should ask the 
question. The form also presents the right of answering. This, 
no doubt, may be dispensed with, and so might the whole ceremony 
of the trial, since sentence was already pronounced at the Castle 
before the jury were empanelled. Your lordships are but the 
priests of the oracle, and I insist on the whole of the forms." 

[Here Mr. Emmet paused, and the court desired him to proceed.] 

" I am charged with being an emissary of France. An emissary 
of France! and for what end? It is alleged that I wished to sell 
the independence of my country ; and for what end ? Was this 
the object of my ambition? And is this the mode by which a 
tribunal of justice reconciles contradiction ? No; 1 am no emissary ; 
and my ambition was to hold a place among the deliverers of my 
country, not in power nor in profit, but in the glory of the achieve- 
ment. Sell my country's independence to France ! and for what ? 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 49 

Was it a change of masters? No, but for my ambition. Oh, ray 
country! was it personal ambition that could influence me? Had 
it been the soul of my actions, could I not, by my education and 
fortune, by the rank and consideration of my family, have placed 
myself amongst the proudest of your oppressors ? My country was 
my idol. To it I sacrificed every selfish, every endearing senti- 
ment ; and for it I now offer up myself, O God ! No, my lords ; I 
acted as an* Irishman, determined on delivering my country from 
the yoke of a foreign and unrelenting tyranny, and the more 
galling yoke of a domestic faction, which is its joint partner and 
perpetrator in the patricide, from the ignominy existing with an 
exterior of splendor and a conscious depravity. It was the wish 
of my heart to extricate my country from this doubly rivetted 
despotism — I wished to place her independence beyond the reach 
of any power on earth. I wished to exalt her to that proud station 
in the world. Connection with. France was, indeed, intended, but 
only as far as mutual interest would sanction or require. Were 
the French to assume any authority inconsistent with the purest in- 
dependence, it would be the signal for their destruction. We sought 
their aid — and we sought it as we had assurance we should obtain 
it — as auxiliaries in war, and allies in peace. Were the French to 
come as invaders or enemies, uninvited by the wishes of the people, 
I should oppose them /to the utmost of my strength. Yes ! my 
countrymen, I should advise you to meet them upon the beach 
with a sword in one Jaand, and a torch in the other. I would meet 
them with all the destructive fury of war. \ would animate my 
countrymen to imm'olate them in their boats, before they had con- 
taminated the soil p{ my country. If they succeeded in landing, 
and if forced to retire before superior discipline, I would dispute 
every inch of ground, burn every blade of grass, and the last 
entrenchment of liberty should be my grave. What I could not 
do myself, if I should fall, I should leave as a last charge to my 
countrymen to /accomplish ; because I should feel conscious that 
life, any more than death, is unprofitable when a foreign nation 
holds my country in subjection. But it was not as an enemy that 
the succors of France were to land. I looked, indeed, for the 
assistance of France; but I wished to prove to France and to the 
world that Irishmen deserved to be assisted — that they were in- 
dignant at slavery, and ready to assert the independence and liberty 
of their country ; I wished to procure for my country the guarantee 
which Washington procured for America — to procure an aid which, 
by its example, would be as important as its valor; disciplined, 
gallant, pregnant with science and experience ; that of a people who 
would perceive the good, and polish the rough points of our charac- 
ter. They would come to us as strangers, and leave us as friends, 
after sharing in our perils and elevating our destiny. These were' 
my objects : not to receive new taskmasters, but to expel old 
tyrants. It was for these ends I sought aid from France ; because 
France, even as an enemy, could not be more implacable than the 
enemy already in the bosom of my country.'" 



50 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



[Here he was interrupted by the court.] 

"I have been charged with that importance in the emancipation 
of my country as to be considered the keystone of the combination 
of Irishmen; or, as your lordship expressed it, 'the life and blood 
of the conspiracy.' You do me honor over much: you have given 
to the subaltern all the credit of a superior. There are men en- 
gaged in this conspiracy who are not only superior to me, but even 
to your own conceptions of yourself, my lord — men before the 
splendor of whose genius and virtues I should bow with respectful 
deference, and who would think themselves disgraced by shaking 
your blood-stained hand." 

[Here he was interrupted."] 

" What, my lord, shall you tell me, on the passage to the scaffold, 
which that tyranny (of which you are only the intermediary exe- 
cutioner) has erected for my murder, that I am accountable for all 
tha blood that has and will be shed in this struggle of the oppressed 
against the oppressor — shall you tell me this, and must' I be so 
very a slave as not to repel it? I do not fear to approach the 
Omnipotent Judge to answer for the conduct of my whole life ; and 
am I to be appalled and falsified by a mere remnant of mortality 
here? By you, too, although, if it were possible to collect all the 
innocent blood that you have shed in your unhallowed ministry in 
one sreat reservoir, your lordship might swim in it." 

[Here the judge interfered.] 

" Let no man dare, when I am dead, to charge me with dis- 
honor ; let no man attaint my memory, by believing that I could 
have engaged in any cause but that of my country's liberty and 
independence ; or that I could have become the pliant minion of 
power, in the oppression and misery of my country. The procla- 
mation of the Provisional Government speaks for our views ; no 
inference can be tortured from it to countenance barbarity or 
debasement at home, or subjection, humiliation, or treachery from 
abroad. I would not have submitted to a foreign oppressor, for the 
same reason that I would resist the foreign and domestic oppressor. 
In the dignity of freedom, I would have fought upon the threshold 
of my country, and its enemy should enter only by passing over my 
lifeless corpse. And am I, who lived but for my country, and who 
have subjected myself to the dangers of the jealous and watchful 
oppressor, and the bondage of the grave, only to give my country- 
men their rights, and my country her independence, — am I to be 
loaded with calumny, and not suffered to resent it? No; God 
forbid!" 

Here Lord Norbury told Mr. Emmet that his sentiments and 
language disgraced his family and his education, but more particu- 
larly his father, Dr. Etnuiet, who was a man, if alive, that would 
not countenance such opinions. To which Mr. Emmet replied : — 

'• It the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in the concerns 
and cares of those who were dear to them in this transitory life, 
O ever dear and venerated shade of my departed father ! look 
down with scrutiny upon the conduct of your suffering son, and 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 61 

see if I have, even for a moment, deviated from those principles of 
morality and patriotism which it was your care to instil into my 
youthful mind, and for which I am now about to offer up my life. 
My lords, you are impatient for the sacrifice. The blood which 
you seek is not congealed by the artificial terrors which surround 
your victim — it circulates warmly and unruffled through the 
channels which God created for noble purposes, but which you are 
now bent to destroy, for purposes so grievous that they cry to 
heaven. Be yet patient ! I have but a few more words to say — I 
am going to my cold and silent grave— my lamp of life is nearly 
extinguished — my race is run — the grave opens to receive me, and 
I sink into its bosom. I have but one request to ask at my de- 
parture from this world : it is — THE CHARITY OF ITS SILENCE. Let 
no man write my epitaph ; for, as no man who knows my motives 
dare now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse 
them. Let them and me rest in obscurity and peace; and my 
tomb remain uninscribed, and my memory in oblivion, until other 
times and other men can do justice to my character. When my 
country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then and 
not till then, let my epitaph be written. I have done." 

This affecting address was spoken — as we learn from 
the painstaking and generous biographer of the United 
Irishmen, Dr. Madden — "in so loud a voice as to be 
distinctly heard at the outer doors of the court-house ; 
and yet, though he spoke in a loud tone, there was 
nothing boisterous in his manner ; his accents and 
cadence of voice, on the contrary, were exquisitely modu- 
lated. His action was very remarkable j its greater or 
lesser vehemence corresponded with the rise and fall of 
his voice. He is described as moving about the dock, as 
he warmed in his address, with rapid, but not ungraceful 
motions — now in front of the railing before the bench, 
then retiring, as if his body, as well as his mind, were 
swelling beyond the measure of its chains. His action 
was not confined to his hands ; he seemed to have ac- 
quired a swaying motion of the body when he spoke in 
public, which was peculiar to him, but there was no 
affectation in it." 

At ten o'clock, p. m., on the day of his trial, the bar- 
barous sentence of the law — the same that we have so 
recently heard passed on prisoners standing in that same 
dock, accused of the same offence against the rulers of 
this country — was passed on Robert Emmet. Only a 



52 SPEECHES FKOM THE DOCK. 

few hours were given him in which to withdraw his 
thoughts from the things of this world, and fix them on the 
next. He was hurried away, at midnight, from Newgate 
to Kilmainham Jail, passing through Thomas-street, the 
scene of his attempted insurrection. Hardly had the 
prison van driven through, when workmen arrived and 
commenced the erection of the gibbet from which his 
body was to be suspended. About the hour of noon, on 
the 20th of September, he mounted the scaffold with a 
firm and composed demeanor; a minute or two more 
and the lifeless remains of one of the most gifted of 
God's creatures hung from the crossbeams — strangled 
by the enemies of his country — cut off in the bloom of 
youth, in the prime of his physical and intellectual 
powers, because he had loved his own land, hated her 
oppressors, and striven to give freedom to his people. 
But not yet was English vengeance satisfied. While the 
body was yet warm it was cut down from the gibbet, 
the neck placed across a block on the scaffold, and the 
head severed from the body. Then the executioner held 
it up before the horrified and sorrowing crowd that 
stood outside the lines of soldiery, proclaiming to them — ■ 
" This is the head of a traitor ! " A traitor ! It was a 
false proclamation. No traitor was he, but a true and 
noble gentleman. No traitor, but a most faithful heart 
to all that was worthy of love and honor. No traitor, 
but a martyr for Ireland. The people who stood agonized 
before his scaffold, tears streaming from their eyes, and 
their hearts bursting with suppressed emotion, knew 
that for them and for Ireland he had offered up his 

young life. And when the deed was finished, and the 
mutilated body had been taken away, and the armed 
guards had marched from the fatal spot, old people and 
young moved up to it to dip their handkerchiefs in the 
blood of the martyr, that they might then treasure up the 
relics forever. Well has his memory been cherished in 
the Irish heart from that day to the present time. Six 

years ago a procession of Irishmen, fifteen thousand 
strong, bearing another rebel to his grave, passed by the 
scene of that execution, every man of whom reverently 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 53 

uncovered his head as he reached the hallowed spot. A 
few months ago, a banner borne in another Irish insur- 
rection displayed the inscription — 

^REMEMBER EMMET." 

Far away "beyond the Atlantic foam," and "by the 
long wash of Australasian seas," societies are in existence 
bearing his name, and having for their object to cherish 
his memory and perpetuate his principles. And wherever, 
on the habitable globe a few members of the scattered 
Irish race are to be found, there are hearts that are 
thrilled by even the faintest allusion to the uninscribed 
gravestone and the unwritten epitaph. 



54 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



THOMAS RUSSELL. 

When Emmet was dead, and the plan to which he de 
voted his fortune, his talents, and his life, had sunk in 
failure, the cause of Irish independence appeared finally 
lost, and the cry, more than once repeated in after times, 
that " now, indeed, the last bolt of Irish disaffection has 
been sped, and that there would never again be an Irish 
rebellion," rung loudly from the exulting enemies of 
Ireland. The hearts of the people seemed broken by 
the weight of the misfortunes and calamities that over- 
whelmed them. The hopes which had brightened their 
stormy path, and enabled them to endure the oppression 
to which they were subjected by expectations of a glori- 
ous change, flickered no longer amidst the darkness. 
The efforts of the insurgents were everywhere drowned 
in blood • the hideous memories of '98 were brought up 
anew ; full of bitter thoughts, exasperated, humiliated, 
and despondent, the people brooded over their wretched 
fate, and sullenly submitted to the reign of terror which 
was inaugurated amongst them. Little had the Irish 
patriots to look forward to in that dark hour of suffering 
and disappointment. A nightmare of blood and violence 
weighed down the spirits of the people ; a stupor ap- 
peared to have fallen on the nation ; and though time 
might be trusted to arouse them from the trance, they 
had suffered another loss, not so easily repaired, in the 
death and dispersion of their leaders. Where now 
should they find the Moses to lead them from the land 
of captivity ? Tone, Fitzgerald, Emmet, Bond, M'Cracken, 
the Sheareses — all were dead. M'Nevin, Neilson, and 
O'Connor were in exile. Heavily and relentlessly the 
arm of vengeance had fallen on them one by one ; but 
the list was not even then completed. There was yet 
another victim to fall before the altar of liberty ; and the 
sacrifice which commenced with Orr did not conclude 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 55 

until Thomas Russell had perished on the gallows of 
Dow-npatrick. 

The importance of the part which Thomas Russell fills 
in the history of the United Irishmen, the worth of his 
character, the purity and nobility of his sentiments, and 
the spirit of uncompromising patriotism displayed in his 
last address, would render unpardonable the omission of 
his name from such a work as this. " I mean to make 
my trial," said Russell, " and the last of my life, if it is 
to close now, as serviceable to the cause of liberty as I 
can :" and he kept his word. To-day, we try in some 
slight way to requite that fidelity which endured unto 
death, by rescuing Thomas Russell's name from oblivion, 
and recalling his services and virtues to the recollection 
of his countrymen. 

He was born at Betsborough, Dunnahane, in the parish 
of Kilshanick, county Cork, on the 21st November, 1767. 
His father was an officer in the British army, who had 
fought against the Irish Brigade in the memorable battle 
of Fontenoy, and who died in a high situation in the 
Royal Hospital at Kilmainham. Thomas, the youngest 
of his three sons, was educated for the Protestant Church ; 
but his inclinations sought a different field of action, and 
at the age of fifteen he left for India as a volunteer, 
where he served with his brother Ambrose, whose 
gallantry in battle called down commendation from the 
English king. Thomas Russell quitted India after five 
years' service, and his return is ascribed to the disgust 
and indignation which filled him on witnessing the ex- 
tortions, the cruelties, the usurpations, and brutalities, 
which were carried out and sanctioned by the government 
under which he served. He left Ireland burdened with 
few fixed political principles and little knowledge of the 
world j he returned a full-grown man, imbued with the 
opinions which he never afterwards abandoned. He was 
then, we are told, a model of manly beauty, one of those 
favored individuals whom we cannot pass in the street with- 
out being guilty of the rudeness of staring in the face while 
passing, and turning round to look at the receding figure. 
Though more than six feet high, his majestic stature was 



56 SPEECHES FEOM THE DOCK. 

scarcely observed, owing to the exquisite symmetry of his 
form. Martial in bis gair. and demeanor, bis appearance 
was not altogether that of a soldier. His dark and steady 
eye, compressed lip, and somewhat haughty bearing, 
were occasionally strongly indicative of the camp 5 but 
in general the classic contour of bis finely-formed head, 
the expression of sweetness that characterized his smile, 
and the benevolence that beamed in his fine countenance, 
seemed to mark him out as one that was destined to be 
the ornament, grace, and blessing of private life. His 
manners were those of the finished gentleman, combined 
ith t hat native grace which nothing but superiority of 
intellect can give; he was naturally reserved and retiring 
in disposition, and his private life was distinguished by 
eminent purity and an unostentatious devotion to the 
precepts of religion. 

Such was Thomas Russell when he made the acquaint- 
ance of Theobald Wolfe Tone in Dublin. There is no 
doubt that the views and opinions of Tone made a pro- 
found impression on young Russell ; it is equally certain, 
on the other hand, that Tone learned to love and esteem 
his new friend, whose sentiments were so much in accord- 
ance with his own. Throughout Tone's journal we find 
constant references to Thomas Russell, whom he always 
places with Thomas Addis Emmet at the head of his list 
of friends. Early in 1791 Russell proceeded to Belfast 
to join the 64th regiment, in which he had obtained a 
commission; before leaving Dublin, he appears to have 
become a member of the Society of United Irishmen, 
and in Belfast he soon won the friendship and shared 
the councils of the patriotic men who were laboring for 
Ireland in that city. 

While in Belfast, Russell fell into pecuniary embar- 
rassments. His generous and confiding nature induced 
him to go bail for a false friend, and he found himself 
one morning obliged to meet a claim for c£200, which he 
had no means of discharging except by the sale of his 
commission. Russell sold out and retired to Dungannon, 
where he lived for some time on the residue of the 
money thus obtained, and during this period he was 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 57 

appointed a justice of the peace for the county of 
Tyrone. After a short experience of "Justices' justice' 7 
in the North, he retired from the bench through motives 
alike creditable to his head and heart. " I cannot re- 
concile it to my conscience," he exclaimed one day, " to 
sit on a bench where the practice exists of inquiring 
what religion a person is before investigating the charge 
against him." Russell returned, after taking this step, 
to Belfast, where he was appointed to a situation in the 
public library of the town, and where he became a regu- 
lar contributor to the organ of the Ulster patriots, the 
Northern Star. 

In 1796 he was appointed by the United Irishmen to 
the supreme military command in the county Down, a 
post for which his military experience, not less than his 
personal influence, fitted him ; but his political career was 
soon afterwards interrupted by his arrest on the 26th of 
September, 1796. Russell was removed to Dublin, and 
lodged in Newgate Prison. His arrest filled the great 
heart of Tone, who was then toiling for his country in 
France, with sorrow and dismay. " It is impossible," 
he says in his journal, "to conceive the effect this mis- 
fortune has on my mind. If we are not in Ireland in 
time to extricate him, he is lost j for the government will 
move heaven and earth to insure his condemnation. 
Good God !" he adds, " if Russell and Neilson fall, where 
shall I find two others to replace them?" During the 
eventful months that intervened between the date of his 
arrest and the 19th of March, 1799, poor Russell re- 
mained chafing, his imprisoned soul filled with patriotic 
passion and emotion, in his prison cell in Kilmainham. 
On the latter date, when the majority of his associates 
were dead, and their followers scattered and disheartened, 
he was transferred to Fort George in Scotland, where he 
spent three years more in captivity. The government 
had no specific charge against him, but they feared his 
influence and distrusted his intentions, and they deter- 
mined to keep him a prisoner while a chance remained 
of his exerting his power against them. No better illus- 
tration of Russell's character and principles could be 



5S SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

afforded than that supplied in the following extract from 
one of the letters written by him during his incarcera- 
tion in Fort George : — " To the people of Ireland," he 
writes, addressing an Irish friend and sympathizer, "I 
am responsible for my actions ; amidst the uncertainties 
of life this may be my valedictory letter ; what has 
occasioned the failure of the cause is useless to speculate 
on — Providence orders all things for the best. I am 
sure the people mil never abandon the cause ; I am equally 
sure it ivill succeed. I trust men will see," he adds, re- 
ferring to the infidel views then unhappily prevalent, 
" that the only true basis of liberty is morality, and the 
only stable basis of morality is religion." 

In 1802 the government, failing to establish any dis- 
tinct charge against Russell, set him at liberty, and he 
at once repaired to Paris, where he met Robert Emmet, 
who was then preparing to renew the effort of Fitzgerald 
and Wolfe Tone. Time had not changed, nor suffering 
damped, the patriotic impulses of Thomas Russell j he 
entered heartily into the plans of young Emmet, and, 
when the latter left for Ireland in November, 1S02, to 
prosecute his hazardous enterprise, it was with the 
full understanding that Russell would stand by his side 
in the post of danger, and with him perish or succeed. 
In accordance with this arrangement, Russell followed 
Robert Emmet to Dublin, where he arrived so skilfully 
disguised that even his own family failed to recognize 
him. Emmet's plans for the outbreak in Dublin were 
matured when Russell, with a trusty companion, was 
despatched northwards to summon the Ulster men to 
action. Buoyant in spirit, and filled with high expecta- 
tion, he entered on his mission, but he returned to 
Dublin, a week later, prostrate in spirit and with a broken 
heart. One of his first acts on arriving in Belfast was 
to issue a proclamation, in which, as " General-in-Chief 
of the Northern District," he summoned the people of 
Ulster to action. 

The North, however, refused to act. It was the old, 
old story. Belfast resolved on waiting " to see what the 
South would do," and the South waited for Belfast. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 59 

Disgusted and disappointed, Russell quitted the northern 
capital and proceeded to Antrim, where at least he 
thought he might expect to find cordial cooperation ; 
but fresh disappointments awaited him, and with a load 
of misery at his heart, such as he had never felt before, 
Kussell returned to Dublin, where he lived in seclusion, 
until arrested by Major Sirr and his myrmidons on the 
9th of September, 1803. A reward of <£ 1,500 had been 
offered for his apprehension. We learn on good authority 
that the ruffianly town-major, on arresting him, seized 
the unfortunate patriot rudely by the neck-cloth, where- 
upon, Russell, a far more powerful man than his assailant, 
flung him aside, and drawing a pistol, exclaimed — " I 
will not be treated with indignity." Sirr parleyed for a 
while ; a file of soldiers was meanwhile summoned to his 
aid, and Russell was borne off in irons a prisoner to the 
Castle. While undergoing this second captivity, a bold 
attempt was made by his friends to effect his liberation 
by bribing one of the gaolers j the plot, however, broke 
down, and Russell never breathed the air of freedom 
again. While awaiting his trial — that trial which he 
knew could have but one termination, the death of a 
felon — Russell addressed a letter to one of his friends 
outside, in which the following noble passage, the fittest 
epitaph to be engraved on his tombstone, occurs : — " I 
mean to make my trial," he writes, " and the last of my 
life, if it is to close now, as serviceable to the cause of 
liberty as I can. I trust my countrymen will ever adhere to 
it : I know it will soon prosper. When the country is 
free," he adds — that it would be free, he never learned to 
doubt — " I beg they may lay my remains with my father 
in a private manner, and pay the few debts I owe. I 
have only to beg of my countrymen to remember that 
the cause of liberty is the cause of virtue, which I trust 
they ivill never abandon. May God bless and prosper 
them, and, when power comes into their hands, I entreat 
them to use it with moderation. May God and the 
Saviour bless them all." 

Russell was taken to Downpatrick, escorted by a strong 
force of cavalry, where he was lodged in the governor's 



60 SPEECHES EROM THE DOCK. 

rooms, preparatory to being tried in that town by a 
Special Commission. While in prison in Downpatrick, 
he addressed a letter to Miss M'Cracken, a sister of 
Henry Joy M'Cracken, one of the insurgent leaders of 
1798, in which he speaks as follows : u Humanly speak- 
ing, I expect to be found guilty and immediately exe- 
cuted. As this may be my last letter, I shall only say 
that I did my best for my country and for mankind. I 
have no wish to die; but, far from regretting its loss in 
such a cause, had I a thousand lives, I would willingly 
risk or lose them in it. Be assured, liberty will in the 
midst of those storms be established, and God will wipe 
the tears from all eyes." 

The sad anticipations expressed by Russell were but 
too fully borne out. There was short shrift in those 
days for Irishmen accused of treason, and the verdict of 
guilty, which he looked forward to with so much resig- 
nation, was delivered before the last rays of the sun 
which rose on the morning of the trial had faded in the 
gloaming. It was sworn that he had attended treason- 
able meetings and distributed green uniforms ; that he 
asked those who attended them, " if they did not desire 
to get rid of the Sassanaghs;" that he spoke of 30,000 
stands of arms from France, but said, if France should 
fail them, "forks, spades, shovels, and pickaxes," would 
serve that purpose. It was useless to struggle against 
such testimony, palpably false and distorted as it was in 
some parts, and Russell decided on cutting short the 
proceedings. " I shall not trouble my lawyers," he said, 
"to make any statement in my case. There are but 
three possible modes of defence — firstly, by calling wit- 
nesses to prove the innocence of my conduct ; secondly, 
by calling them to impeach the credit of opposite wit- 
nesses, or by proving an alibi. As I can resort to none 
of those modes of defence without involving others, I 
consider myself precluded from any." Previous to the 
judge's charge, the prisoner asked, " if it was not per- 
mitted to persons in his situation to say a few words, as 
he wished to give his valedictory advice to his country- 
men in as concise a manner as possible, being well con- 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 61 

vinced how speedy the transition was from that vestibule 
of the grave to the scaffold." He was told in reply, 
"■ that he would have an opportunity of expressing him- 
self;" and, when the time did come, Russell advanced to 
the front of the dock, and spoke in a clear, firm tone of 
voice, as follows : — 

" Before I address myself to this audience, I return my sincere 
thanks to my learned counsel for the exertions they have made, in 
which they displayed so much talent. I return my thanks to the 
gentlemen on the part of the crown for the accommodation and 
indulgence I have received during my confinement. I return my 
thanks to the gentlemen of the jury for the patient investigation 
they have afforded my case ; and I return my thanks to the court 
for the attention and politeness they have shown me during my 
trial. As to my political sentiments, I shall, in as brief a manner 
as possible (for I do not wish to engross the time of the court), say 
a few words. I look back to the last thirteen years of my life, the 
period with which I have interfered with the transactions of Ireland, 
with entire satisfaction; though for my share in them I am now 
about to die — the gentlemen of the jury having, by their verdict, 
put the seal of truth on the evidence against me. Whether, at 
this time, and the country being situated as it is, it be safe to inflict 
the punishment of death upon me for the offence I am charged 
with, I leave to the gentlemen who conduct the prosecution. My 
death, perhaps, may be useful in deterring others from following 
my example. It may serve, on the other hand, as a memorial to 
others, and, on trying occasions, it may inspire them with courage. 
I can now say, as far as my judgment enabled me, I acted for the 
good of my country and of the world. It may be presumptuous for 
me to deliver my opinions here as a statesman: but, as the govern- 
ment, have singled me out as a leader, and given me the appellation 
of "General," I am in some degree entitled to do so. To me it, is 
plain that all things are verging towards a change, when we shall 
be of one opinion. In ancient times, we read of great empires 
having their rise and their fall; and yet do the old governments pro- 
ceed as if all were immutable. From the time I could observe and 
reflect, I perceived that there were two kinds of laws — the laws of 
the State and the laws of God — frequently clashing with each 
other; by the latter kind, I have always endeavored to regulate 
my conduct ; but that laws of the former kind do exist in Ireland, 
I believe no one that hears me can deny. That such laws have 
existed in former times, many and various examples clearly evince. 
The Saviour of the world suffered by the Roman laws — by the same 
laws His Apostles were put to the torture, and deprived of their 
lives in His cause. By my conduct I do not consider that I have 
incurred any moral guilt. I have committed no moral evil. I do 
not want the many and bright examples of those gone before me ; 



62 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

but did I want this encouragement, the recent example of a youthful 
hero — a martyr in the cause of liberty — who has just died for his 
country, would inspire me. I have descended into the vale of 
manhood. I have learned to estimate the reality and delusions of 
this world; he was surrounded by everything which could endear 
this world to him — in the bloom of youth, with fond attachments, 
and with all the fascinating charms of health and innocence; to 
his death I look back, even in this moment, with rapture. I have 
travelled much and seen various parts of the world, and I think 
the Irish are the most virtuous nation on the face of the earth; 
they are a good and a brave people, and, had I a thousand lives, I 
would yield them in their service. If it be the will of God that I 
suffer for that, with which I stand charged, I am perfectly resigned 
to His holy will and dispensation. I do not wish to trespass much 
more on the time of those who hear me ; and did I do so, an indis- 
position which has seized on me since I came iuto court, would 
prevent my purpose. Before I depart fiom this to a better world, 
I wish to address myself to the landed aristocracy of this country. 
The word 'aristocracy,' I do not mean to use as an insulting 
epithet, but in the common sense of the expression. 

"Perhaps, as my voice may now be considered as a voice crying 
from the grave, what I now say may have some weight. I see 
around me many, who, during the last years of my life, have dis- 
seminated principles for which I am now to die. Those gentle- 
men, who have all the wealth and the power of the country in 
their hands, I strongly advise, and earnestly exhort, to pay atten- 
tion to the poor — by the poor, I mean the laboring class of the 
community, their tenantry and dependents. I advise them for 
their good to look into their grievances, to sympathize in their 
distress, and to spread comfort and happiness around their dwell- 
ings. It might be that they may not hold their power long, but at 
all events to attend to the wants and distresses of the poor is their 
truest interest. If they hold their power, they will thus have 
friends around them ; if they lose it, their fall will be gentle, and I 
am sure, unless they act thus, they can never be happy. I shall 
now appeal to the right honorable gentleman in whose hands the 
lives of the other prisoners are, and entreat that he will rest satisfied 
with my death, and let that atone for those errors into which I may 
have been supposed to have deluded others. I trust the gentleman 
will restore them to their families and friends. If he shall do so, I 
can asure him that the breeze which conveys to him the prayers 
and blessings of their wives and children will be more grateful than 
that which may be tainted with the stench of putrid corpses^ or 
carrying with it the cries of the widow and the orphan. Standing 
as I do in the presence of God and of man, I entreat him to let my 
life atone for the faults of all, and that my blood alone may flow. 

"If I am then to die, I have therefore two requests to make. 
The first is, that, as I have been engaged in a work possibly of some 
advantage to the world, I may be indulged with three days for its 
completion ; secondly, that, as there are those ties which even death 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. G3 

cannot sever, and as there are those who may have some regard for 
what will remain of me after death, I request that my remains, 
disfigured as they will be, may be delivered after the execution of 
the sentence to those dear friends, that they may be conveyed to 
the ground where my parents are laid, and where those faithful few 
may have a consecrated spot over which they may be permitted to 
grieve. I have now to declare, when about to pass into the 
presence of Almighty God, that I feel no enmity in my mind to any 
being, none to those who have borne testimony against me, and 
none to the jury who have pronouuced the verdict of my death." 

The last request of Russell was refused, and he was 
executed twelve hours after the conclusion of the trial. 
At noon, on the 21st of October, 1803, he was borne 
pinioned to the place of execution. Eleven regiments of 
soldiers were concentrated in the town, to overawe the 
people and defeat any attempt at rescue j yet, even with 
this force at their back, the authorities were far from 
feeling secure. The interval between the trial and exe- 
cution was so short that no preparation could be made 
for the erection of a scaffold, except the placing of some 
barrels under the gateway of the main entrance to the 
prison, with planks placed upon them as a platform, 
and others sloping up from the ground, by which it was 
ascended. On the ground hard by, were placed a sack 
of sawdust, an axe, a block, and a knife. After ascend- 
ing the scaffold, Russell gazed forward, through the 
archway, towards the people, whose white faces could 
be seen glistening outside, and again expressed his for- 
giveness of his persecutors. His manner, we are told, 
was perfectly calm, and he died without a struggle. 

A. purer soul, a more blameless spirit, than Thomas 
Russell, never sunk on the battle-field of freedom. Fixed 
in principle, and resolute in danger, he was nevertheless 
gentle, courteous, unobtrusive, and humane; with all 
the modesty and unafFectedness of childhood, he united 
the zeal of a martyr and the courage of a hero. To the 
cause of his country -he devoted all his energies and all 
his will ; and when he failed to render it prosperous in 
life, he illumined it by his devotion and steadfastness in 
death. The noble speech given above, and the passages 
from his letters which we have quoted, are sufficient in 



64 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

themselves to show how chivalrous was the spirit, how 
noble the motives, of Thomas Russell. The predictions 
which he uttered with so much confidence have not 
indeed been fulfilled, and the success which he looked 
forward to so hopefully has never been won. But his 
advice, so often repeated in his letters, is still adhered 
to ; his countrymen have not yet learned to abandon the 
cause in which he suffered, and they still cherish the 
conviction which he so touchingly expressed — " that 
liberty will, in the midst of these storms, be established, 
and that God will yet wipe off the tears of the Irish 
nation." 

Russell rests in the churchyard of the Protestant church 
of Downpatrick. A plain slab marks the spot where he 
is laid 7 and there is on it this single line — 

"The Gkave of Russell.'' 



V 



"We have now closed our reference to the portion of Irish 
history comprised within the years 1798 and 1803, and 
as far as concerns the men who suffered for Ireland in 
those disastrous days, our " Speeches from the Dock" are 
concluded. "We leave behind us the struggle of 1798. 
and the men who organized it ; we turn from the records 
of a period reeking with the gore of Ireland's truest sons, 
and echoing with the cries and curses of the innocent 
and oppressed ; we pass without notice the butcheries 
and outrages that filled the land, while our countrymen 
were being sabred into submission ; and we leave behind 
us, too, the short-lived insurrection of 1803, and the 
chivalrous young patriot who perished with it. We 
turn to more recent events, less appalling in their general 
aspect, but not less important in their consequences, or 
less interesting to the present generation, and take up 
the next link in the unbroken chain of protests against 
British rule in Ireland, with the lives and the fortunes of 
the patriots of 1848. How faithfully the principles of 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 65 

freedom have been handed down — how nobly the men 
of our own times have imitated the patriots of the past- 
how thoroughly the sentiments expressed from the 
Green-street dock nineteen years ago coincide with the 
declarations of Tone, of Emmet, and of Russell— our 
readers will shortly have an opportunity of judging. They 
will see how all the sufferings and all the calamities that 
darkened the path of the martyrs of '98 were insufficient 
to deter others, as gifted, as earnest, and as chivalrous 
as thev, from following in their footsteps ; and how, un- 
quenchable and unending as the altar light of the fire- 
worshipper, the generous glow of patriotic enthusiasm 
was transmitted through generations, unaffected by the 
torrents of blood in which it was sought to extinguish it. 
The events of our own generation — the acts of con- 
temporary patriots — now claim our attention; but we 
are reluctant as yet to turn over the page, and drop the 
curtain on the scenes with which we have hitherto been 
dealing, and which we feel we have inadequately de- 
scribed. We have spoken of the men whose speeches 
from the dock are on record, but we still linger over the 
history of the events in which they shared, and of the 
men who were associated with them in their endeavors. 
The patriots whose careers we have glanced at are but a 
few out of the number of Irishmen who suffered during 
the same period, and in the same cause, and whose 
actions recommend them to the admiration and esteem 
of posterity. Confining ourselves strictly to those whose 
speeches after conviction have reached us, the list could 
not well be extended ; but there are many who acted as 
brave a part, and whose memories are inseparable from 
the history of the period. We should have desired to 
speak, were the scope of our labors more extended, of 
the brave Lord Edward Fitzgerald, the gallant and the 
true, who sacrificed his position, his prospects, and his 
life, for the good old cause, and whose arrest and death 
contributed more largely, perhaps, than any other cause 
that could be assigned/ to the failure of the insurrection 
of 1798. Descended from an old and noble family, 
possessing in a remarkable degree all the attributes and 



66 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

embellishments of a popular leader; young and spirited, 
eloquent and wealthy, ardent, generous, and brave, of 
good address, and fine physical proportions, it is not 
surprising that Lord Edward Fitzgerald became the idol 
of the patriot party, and was appointed by them to a 
leading position in the organization. Lord Edward 
Fitzgerald was born in October, 1763 ; being the fifth 
son of James Duke of Leinster, the twentieth Earl of 
Kildare. He grew up to manhood, as a recent writer 
has observed, when the drums of the volunteers were 
pealing their marches of victory; and under the stirring 
events of the period his soul burst through the shackles 
that had long bound down the Irish aristocracy in servile 
dependence. In his early years he served, in the Ameri- 
can War of Independence, on the side of despotism and 
oppression — a circumstance which in after years caused 
him poignant sorrow. He joined the United Irishmen 
about the time that Thomas Addis Emmet entered their 
ranks, and the young nobleman threw himself into the 
movement with all the ardor and energy of his nature. 
He was appointed commander-in-chief of the national 
forces in the South, and labored with indefatigable zeal 
in perfecting the plans for the outbreak on the 23d of 
May. The story of his arrest and capture is too well 
known to need repetition. Treachery dogged the steps 
of the young patriot, and, after lying for some weeks in 
concealment, he was arrested on the 19th day of May, 
1798, two months after his associates in the direction of 
the movement had been arrested at Oliver Bond's. His 
gallant struggle with his captors, fighting, like a lion at 
bay, against the miscreants who assailed him ; his 
assassination, his imprisonment, and his death, are 
events to which the minds of the Irish nationalists per- 
petually recur, and which, celebrated in song and story, 
are told with sympathizing regret wherever a group of 
Irish blood are gathered around the hearthstone. His 
genius, his talents, and his influence, his unswerving 
attachment to his country, and his melancholy end, cast 
an air of romance around his history ; and the last ray 
of gratitude must fade from the Irish heart before the 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 67 

name of the martyred patriot, who sleeps in the vaults 
of St. Werburgh, will be forgotten in the land of his birth. 

In less than a fortnight after Lord Edward expired in 
Newgate, another Irish rebel, distinguished by his talents, 
his fidelity, and his position, expiated with his life the 
crime of " loving his country above his king." It is 
hard to mention Thomas Russell and ignore Henry Joy 
M'Cracken — it is hard to speak of the Insurrection of 
'98 and forget the gallant young Irishman who com- 
manded at the battle of Antrim, and who perished, a 
few weeks subsequently, in the bloom of his manhood, 
on the scaffold in Belfast. Henry Joy M'Cracken was 
one of the first members of the Society of United Irish- 
men, and he was one of the best. He was arrested, 
owing to private information received by the govern- 
ment, on the 10th of October, 1796 — three weeks alter 
Russell, his friend and confidant, w T as flung into prison — 
and lodged in Newgate Jail, where he remained until 
the 8th of September in the following year. He was 
then liberated on bail, and immediately, on regaining 
his liberty, returned to Belfast, still bent on accomplish- 
ing at all hazards the liberation of his country. Previous 
to the outbreak in May, '98, he had frequent interviews 
with the patriot leaders in Dublin, and M'Cracken was 
appointed to the command of the insurgent forces in 
Antrim. Filled with impatience and patriotic ardor, 
he heard of the stirring events that followed the arrest 
of Lord Edward Fitzgerald ; he concentrated all his 
energies in preparing the Northern patriots for action, 
but circumstances delayed the outbreak in that quarter, 
and it was not until the 6th of June, 1798, that 
M'Cracken had perfected his arrangements for taking 
the field, and issued the following brief proclamation, 
"dated the first year of liberty, 6th June, 1798," 
addressed to the Army of Ulster : — 

" To-morrow we march on Antrim. Drive the garrison 
of Randalstown before yon. and hasten to form a junction 
with your commander-in-chief." 

Twenty-one thousand insurgents were to have rallied 
at the call of M'Cracken, but not more than seven 



68 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

thousand responded to the summons. Even this num- 
ber, however, would have been sufficient to strike a 
successful blow, which would have rilled the hearts of 
the gallant Wexford men, then in arms, with exultation, 
and effected incalculable results on the fate of Ireland, 
had not the curse of the Irish cause, treachery and 
betrayal, again come to the aid of its enemies. Hardly 
had the plans for the attack on Antrim been perfected, 
when the secrets of the conspirators were revealed to 
General Nugent, who commanded the British troops in 
the North, and the defeat of the insurgents was thus 
secured. M'Cracken's forces marched to the attack on 
Antrim with great regularity, chorusing the Marseillaise 
Hymn as they charged through the town. Their success 
at first seemed complete, but the English general, acting 
on the information which had treacherously been sup- 
plied him, had taken effective means to disconcert and 
defeat them. Suddenly, and as it seemed, in the flush 
of victory, the insurgents found themselves exposed to a 
galling fire from a iorce posted at either end of the 
town ; a gallant resistance was offered, but it w T as vain. 
The insurgents fled from the fatal spot, leaving 500 of 
their dead and dying behind them, and at nightfall 
Henry Joy M'Cracken found himself a fugitive and a 
ruined man. For some weeks he managed to baffle the 
bloodhounds on his track, but he was ultimately arrested 
and tried by court-martial, in Belfast, on the 17th July, 
1798. On the evening of the same day he was executed. 
We have it on the best authority that he bore his fate 
with calmness, resolution, and resignation. It is not his 
fault that a " Speech from the Dock n under his name is 
not amongst our present collection. He had actually 
prepared one, but his brutal judges w^ould not listen to 
the patriot's exculpation. He was hung, amidst the sobs 
and tears of the populace, in front of the Old Market- 
place of Belfast, and his remains were interred in the 
graveyard now covered, by St. George's Protestant church. 
Later still, in the same year, two gallant young officers 
of Irish blood shared the fate of Russell and M'Cracken. 
They sailed with Humbert from Rochelle; they fought 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 69 

at Castlebar and Ballinamuck 5 and when the swords of 
their French allies were sheathed, they passed into the 
power of the foes. Matthew Tone was one of them ; 
the other was Bartholomew Teeling. The latter filled 
the rank of Etat-major in the French army ; and a letter 
from his commanding officer, General Humbert, was read 
at his trial, in which the highest praise was given to the 
young officer f&r the humane exertions which he made 
throughout his last brief campaign in the interest of 
mercy. " His hand," he said, " was ever raised to stay 
the useless effusion of blood, and his protection was 
afforded to the prostrate and defenceless." But his 
military judges paid little heed to those extenuating 
circumstances, and Teeling was condemned to die on the 
day of his trial. He perished on the 24th September, 
179S, being then in his twenty-fourth year. He marched 
with a proud step to the place of execution on Arbor 
Hill, Dublin, and he died, as a soldier might, with un- 
shaken firmness and unquailing mien. No lettered slab 
marks the place of his interment ; and his bones remain 
in unhallowed and unconsecrated ground. Hardly had 
his headless body ceased to palpitate, when it was flung 
into a hole at the rear of the Royal Barracks. A few 
days later the same unhonored spot received the mortal 
remains of Matthew Tone. "He had a more enthusiastic 
nature than any of us," writes his brother, Theobald 
Wolfe Tone, " and was a sincere republican, capable of 
sacrificing everything for his principles." His execution 
was conducted with infamous cruelty and brutality, and 
the life-blood was still gushing from his body when it was 
flung into " The Croppy's Hole." " The day will come," 
says Dr. Madden, " when that desecrated spot will be 
hallowed ground — consecrated by religion — trod lightly 
by pensive patriotism — and decorated by funeral trophies 
in honor of the dead whose bones lie there in graves 
that are now neglected and unhonored." 

There are others of the patriot leaders who died in 
exile, far away from the land for which they suffered, 
and whose graves were dug on alien shores by the heed- 
less hands of the stranger. This was the fate of Addis 



70 SPEECHES FKOM THE DOCK. 

Emmet, of Neilson, and of M'Nevin. In Ireland they 
were foremost and most trusted amongst the gifted and 
brilliant throng that directed the labors and shaped 
the purposes of the United Irishmen. They survived 
the reign of terror that swallowed up the majority of 
their compatriots, and, when milder councils began to 
prevail, they were permitted to go forth from the dun- 
geon which confined them, into banishment. The vision 
of Irish freedom was not permitted to dawn upon them 
in life ; from beyond the sandy slopes washed by the 
Western Atlantic they watched the fortunes of the old 
land with hopeless, but enduring, love. Their talents, 
their virtues, and their patriotism were not unappre- 
ciated by the people amongst whom they spent their 
closing years of life. In the busiest thoroughfare of the 
greatest city of America, there towers over the heads of 
the by-passers the monument of marble which grateful 
hands have raised to the memory of Addis Emmet. In 
the centre of Western civilization, the home of republi- 
can liberty, the stranger reads, in glowing words, of the 
virtues and the fame of the brother of Robert Emmet, 
sculptured on the noble pillar erected in Broadway, 
New York, to his memory. Nor was he the only one of 
his party to whom such an honor was accorded. A 
stone-throw from the spot where the Emmet monument 
stands, a memorial, not less commanding in its propor-t 
tions and appearance, was erected to William James 
M'Nevin ; and the American citizen, as he passes through 
the spacious streets of that city which the genius of 
liberty has rendered prosperous and great, gazes proudly 
on those stately monuments, which tell him that the 
devotion to freedom which England punished and pro- 
scribed found in his own land the recognition which it 
merited from the gallant and the rfee. # 



* The inscriptions on the Emmet monument are in three lan- 
guages—Irish, Latin, and English. The Irish inscription consists 
of the following lines : — 

Do mhiannaich se ardm&th 

Cum tir a breith 

Do thug se clu a's fuair se moladh 

An deig a bais. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 71 

The following is the English inscription : 

In Memory of 
THOMAS ADDIS EMMET. 

Who exemplified in his conduct, 

And adorned by his integrity, 

The policy and principles of the 

UNITED IRISHMEN— 

" To forward a brotherhood of affection, 

A community of rights, an identity of interests, and a union of power 

Among Irishmen of every religious persuasion, 

As the only means of Ireland's chief good, 

Au impartial and adequate representation 

In an Irish Parliament." 

For this (mysterious fate of virtue) exiled from his native land, 

Iu America, the land of Freedom, 

He found a second country, 

Which paid his love by reverencing his genius. 

Learned in our laws, and in the laws of Europe, 

In the literature of our times, and in that of antiquity, 

All knowledge seemed subject to his use. 

An orator of the first order, clear, copious, fervid, 

Alike powerful to kindle the imagination, touch the affections, 

And sway the reason and will ; 

Simple in his tastes, unassuming in his manners, 

Frank, generous, kind-heaited, and honorable. 

His private life was beautiful, 

As his public course was brilliant. 

The name and example of such a man, 

Alike illustrious by his genius, his virtues, and his fate; 

Consecrated to their affections by his sacrifices, his perils, 

And the deeper calamities of his kindred, 

In a Just and Holy Cause; 

His sympathizing countrymen 

Erected this Monument and Cenotaph. 



72 * SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



JOHN MITCHEL. 

Subsequent to the melancholy tragedy of 1803, a period 
of indescribable depression was experienced in Ireland. 
Defeat, disaster, ruin, bad fallen upon the national cause ; 
the power on whose friendly aid so much reliance had 
been placed was humbled, and England stood before the 
world in the full blaze of triumph and glory. Her fleet 
was undisputed mistress of the ocean, having swept off 
all hostile shipping, and left to the enemy little more 
than the small craft that sheltered in narrow creeks and 
under the guns of well-defended harbors. Her army, 
if not numerically large, had proved its valor on many 
a well-fought field, and shown that it knew how to bring 
victory to light upon its standards j and, what was not 
less a matter of wonder to others, and of pride to her- 
self, the abundance of her wealth and the extent of her 
resources were shown to be without a parallel in the 
world. Napoleon was an exile on the rock of St. Helena ; 
the " Holy Alliance " — as the European sovereigns blas- 
phemously designated themselves — were lording it over 
the souls and bodies of men by " right divine f the free 
and noble principles in which the French Revolution had 
its origin were now sunk out of sight, covered with the 
infamy of the Reign of Terror and the responsibility of 
the series of desolating wars which had followed it, and 
no man dared to speak for them. Those were dark days 
for Ireland. - Her parliament was gone, and in the blight- 
ing shade of the provincialism to which she was reduced, 
genius and courage seemed to have died out from 
the land. Thousands of her bravest and most devoted 
children had perished in her cause — some on the scaffold, 
and others on the field of battle 5 and many, whose pre- 
sence at home would have been invaluable to her, were 
obliged to seek safety in exile. So Erin, the crownless 
Queen, sat in the dust with fetters on her limbs, her 




CHARLES J. KICKHAM. 
JOHN CLEARS. THOMAS CLARK LUBEY. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 73 

broken sword fallen from her hand, and with mournful 
memories lying heavy on her heart. The feelings of 
disappointment and grief then rankling in every Irish 
breast are well mirrored in that plaintive song of our 
national poet, which opens with these tristful lines : — 

"'Tisgone, and for ever, the light we saw breaking,"^ 

Like heaven's first dawn o'er the sleep of the dead, 
When man, from the slumber of ages awaking, 

Looked upward and blessed the pure raj ere it fled. 
; Tis gone, and the gleams it has left of its burning 

But deepen the long night of bondage and mourning, 
That dark o'er the kingdoms of earth is returning, 

And darkest of all, hapless Erin, o'er thee." 

In this gloomy condition of affairs there was nothing 
for Irish patriotism to do except to seek for the removal, 
by constitutional means, of some of the cruel grievances 
that pressed on the people. Emancipation of the Catholics 
from the large remainder of the penal laws that still 
degraded and despoiled them, was one of the baits held 
out by Mr. Pitt when playing his cards for the Union ; 
but not long had the Irish parliament been numbered 
with the things that were, when it became evident that 
the minister was in no hurry to fulfil his engagement, 
and it was found necessary to take some steps for keep- 
ing him to his promise. Committees were formed, meet- 
ings were held, speeches were made, resolutions were 
adopted, and all the machinery of parliamentary en- 
deavor was put in motion. The leaders of the Catholic 
cause in this case, like those of the national cause in the 
preceding years, were liberal-minded Protestant gentle- 
men ; but, as time wore on, a young barrister from Kerry, 
one of the old race and the old faith, took a decided lead 
amongst them, and soon became its recognized champion, 
the elect of the nation, the "man of the people. 7 ' Daniel 
O'Connell stood forth, with the whole mass of his Catholic 
countrymen at his back, to wage, within the lines of the 
constitution, this battle for Ireland. He fought it reso- 
lutely and skilfully ; the people supported him with an 
unanimity and an enthusiasm that were wonderful; their 
spirit rose and strengthened to that degree, that the 



74 SPEECHES FPvOM THE DOCK. 

probability of another civil war began to loom up in the 
near future. Inquiries instituted by the government 
resulted in the discovery that the Catholics serving in the 
army, and who constituted at least a third of its strength, 
were in full sympathy with their countrymen on this 
question, and could not be depended on to act against 
them : the ministry recognized the critical condition of 
affairs, saw that there was danger in delay, yielded to 
the popular demand — and Catholic Emancipation was 
won. 

The details of that brilliant episode of Irish history 
cannot be told within the limits of this work, but some 
of its consequences concern us very nearly. The triumph 
of the constitutional struggle for Catholic Emancipation 
confirmed O'Connell in the resolution he had previously 
formed, to promote an agitation for a Repeal of the 
Union, and encouraged him to lay the proposal before 
bis countrymen. The forces that had wrung the one 
measure of justice from an unwilling parliament were 
competent, he declared, to obtain the other. He soon 
succeeded in impressing his own belief on the minds of 
his countrymen, whose confidence in his wisdom and 
powers was unbounded. The whole country responded 
to his call, and soon "the Liberator," as the emancipated 
Irish Catholics loved to call him, found himself at the 
head of a political organization, which, in its mode of 
action, its extent, and its ardor, was "unique in the 
history of the world." Every city and great town in 
Ireland had its branch of the Repeal Association • every 
village had its Repeal reading-room — -all deriving hope 
and life, and taking direction from the headquarters in 
Dublin, where the great Tribune himself " thundered 
and lightened" at the weekly meetings. All Ireland 
echoed with his words. Newspapers, attaining thereby 
to a circulation never before approached in Ireland, 
carried them from one extremity of the land to the 
other — educating, cheering, and inspiring the hearts of 
the long down-trodden people. Nothing like this had 
ever occurred before. The eloquence of the patriot 
orators of the Irish parliament had not been brought 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 75 

home to the masses of the population j and the United 
Irishmen could only speak to them secretly, in whispers. 
But here were addresses glowing, and bold, and tender, 
brimful of native humor, scathing in their sarcasms, 
terrible in their denunciations, ineffably beautiful in their 
pathos — addresses that recalled the most glorious as well 
as the saddest memories of Irish history, and presented 
brilliant vistas of the future — addresses that touched to 
its fullest and most delicious vibration every chord of 
the Irish heart — here they were being sped over the 
*>land in an unfailing and ever-welcome supply. The 
peasant read them to his family by the fireside when his 
hard day's work was done; and the fisherman, as he 
steered his boat homeward, reckoned as not the least of 
his anticipated pleasures, the reading of the last report 
from Conciliation Hall. And it was not the humbler 
classes only who acknowledged the influence of the 
Repeal oratory, sympathized with the movement, and 
enrolled themselves in the ranks. The priesthood, almost 
to a man, were members of the Association and propa- 
gandists of its principles ; the professional classes were 
largely represented in it j of merchants and traders it 
could count up a large roll ; and many of the landed 
gentry, even though they held her Majesty's Commission 
of the Peace, were amongst its most prominent supporters. 
In short, the Repeal Association represented the Irish 
nation, and its voice was the voice of the people. The 
"Monster Meetings" of the year 1843 put this fact 
beyond the region of doubt or question. As popular 
demonstrations, they were wonderful in their numbers, 
their order, and their enthusiasm. O'Connell, elated by 
their success, fancied that his victory was as good as 
won. He knew that things could not continue to go on 
as they were going — either the government or the Repeal 
Association should give way, and he believed the govern- 
ment would yield. For, the Association, he assured his 
countrymen, was safe within the limits of the law, and 
not a hostile hand could be laid upon it without vio- 
lating the constitution. His countrymen had nothing 
to do but obey the law and support the Association, and 



76 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

a Repeal of the Union within a few months was, he said, 
inevitable. In all this he had allowed his own heart to 
deceive him ; and his mistake was clearly shown when, 
in October, 1843, the government, by proclamation and 
a display of military force, prevented the intended 
monster meeting at Clontarf. It was still more fully 
established in the early part of the following year, when 
he, with a number of his political associates, was brought 
to trial for treasonable and seditious practices, found 
guilty, and sentenced to twelve months' imprisonment. 
The subsequent reversal of the verdict by the House of 
Lords was a legal triumph for O'Connell ; but, neverthe- 
less, his prestige had suffered by the occurrence, and his 
policy had begun to pall upon the minds of the people. 

After his release the business of the Association went 
on as before, only there was less of confidence and of 
defiance in the speeches of the Liberator, and there were 
no more monster meetings. He was now more emphatic 
than ever in his advocacy of moral-force principles, and 
his condemnation of all warlike hints and allusions. 
The weight of age — he was then more than seventy 
years — was pressing on his once buoyant spirit j his 
prison experience had damped his courage ; and he was 
haunted night and day by a conviction — terrible to his 
mind — that there was growing up, under the wing of the 
Association, a party that would teach the people to look 
to an aimed struggle as the only sure means of obtaining 
the freedom of their country. The writings of the 
Nation — then a new light in the literature and politics 
of Ireland — had a ring in them that was unpleasant to 
his ears, a sound as of clashing steel and the explosion 
of gunpowder. In the articles of that journal much 
honor was given to men who had striven for Irish 
freedom by other methods than those in favor at Con- 
ciliation Hall j and the songs and ballads which it was 
giving to the youth of Ireland — who received them with 
delight, treasuring every line " as if an angel spoke" — 
were bright with the spirit of battle, and taught any 
doctrine except the sinfulness of fighting for liberty. 
The Liberator grew fearful of that organ and of the men 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 77 

by whom it was conducted. He distrusted that quiet- 
faced, thoughtful, and laborious young man, whom they 
so loved and reverenced — the founder, the soul, and the 
centre of their party. To the keen glance of the aged 
leader it appeared that for all that placid brow, those 
calm grey eyes and softly curving lip of his, the man had 
no horror of blood-spilling in a righteous cause, and was 
capable not only of deliberately inciting his countrymen 
to rise in arms against English rule, but also of taking a 
foremost place in the struggle And little less to be 
dreaded than Thomas Davis, was his friend and collabora- 
teur, Charles Gavan Duffy, whose sharp and active in- 
tellect and resolute spirit were not in the least likely to 
allow the national cause to rest forever on the peaceful 
platform of Conciliation Hall. Death removed Davis 
early from the scene ; but in John Mitchel, who had 
taken his place, there was no gain to the party of moral 
force. Then there was that other young firebrand — that 
dapper, well-built, well-dressed, curled and scented young 
gentleman from the Urbs Intacta — whose wondrous elo- 
quence, with the glow of its thought, the brilliancy and 
richness of its imagery, and the sweetness of its cadences, 
charmed and swayed all hearts — adding immensely to 
the dangers of the situation. O'Brien, too, staid and 
unimpulsive as was his character, deliberate and circum- 
spect as were his habits, was evidently inclined to give 
the weight of his name and influence to this " advanced n 
party. And there were many less prominent, but scarcely 
less able men giving them the aid of their great talents 
in the press and on the platform — not only men, but 
women too. Some of the most inspiriting of the strains 
that were inducing the youth of the country to familiar- 
ize themselves with steel blades and rifle barrels, pro- 
ceeded from the pens of those fair and gifted beings. 
Day after- day, as this party sickened of the stale plati- 
tudes, and timid counsels, and crooked policy of the Hall, 
O'Connell, his son John, and other leading members of 
the Association, insisted more and more strongly on their 
doctrine of moral force, and indulged in the wildest and 
most absurd denunciations of the principle of armed 



78 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

resistance to tyranny. "The liberty of the world," ex- 
claimed O'Connell, "is not worth the shedding of one 
drop of human blood." Notwithstanding the profound 
disgust which the utterance of such sentiments caused to 
the bolder spirits in the Association, they would have 
continued within its fold, if those debasing principles 
had not been actually formulated into a series of resolu- 
tions, and proposed for the acceptance of the Society. 
Then they rose against the ignoble doctrine which would 
blot the fair fame of all who ever fought for liberty in 
Ireland or elsewhere, and rank the noblest" men the 
world ever saw in the category of fools and criminals. 
Meagher, in a brilliant oration, protested against the 
resolutions, and showed why he would not " abhor and 
stigmatize the sword.' Mr. John O'Connell interrupted 
and interfered with the speaker. It was plain that free- 
dom of speech was to be had no longer on the platform 
of the Association, and that men of spirit had no longer 
any business there. Meagher took up his hat and left the 
Hall, and amongst the crowd that accompanied him, 
went William Smith O'Brien, Thomas Devin Reilly 
Charles Gavan Duffy, and John Mitchel. 

After this disruption, which occurred on the 28th of 
July, 1846, came the formation of the "Irish Ooufede 
ration " by the seceders. In the proceedings of the new 
society Mr. Mitchel took a more prominent part than he 
had taken in the business of the Repeal Association. 
And he continued to write in his own terse and forcible 
style in the Nation. But his mind travelled too fast in 
the direction of war for either the journal or the society 
with which he was connected. The desperate condition 
of the country, now a prey to all the horrors of famine, 
for the awfully fatal effects of which the government was 
clearly responsible — the disorganization and decay of the 
Repeal party, consequent on the death of O'Connell — 
the introduction of Arms' Acts and other coercive measures 
by the government, and the growing ardor of the Con- 
federate Clubs, were to him as signs and tokens un- 
mistakable that there was no time to be lost in bringing 
matters to a crisis in which the people should hold their 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 79 

own by force of arms. Most of his political associates 
viewed the situation with more patience; but Mr. 
Mitchel was resolved that, even if he stood alone, he 
would speak out his opinions to the people. In the 
latter part of December, 1847, he withdrew from the 
Nation. On the 5th of February, 1848, at the close of a 
debate, which had lasted two days, on the merits of his 
policy of immediate resistance to the collection of rates, 
rents, and taxes, and the division on which was unfavor- 
able to him, he, with a number of friends and sym- 
pathizers, withdrew from the Confederation. Seven days 
afterwards, he issued the first number of a newspaper, 
bearing the significant title of The United Irishman, and 
having for its motto the following aphorism, quoted from 
Theobald Wolfe Tone : " Our independence must be had 
at all hazards. If the men of property will not support 
us, they must fall ; we can support ourselves by the aid 
of that numerous and respectable class of the community, 
the men of no property." 

The Nation had been regarded as rather an outspoken 
journal, and not particularly well affected to the rulers 
of the country. But it was mildness, and gentleness, 
and loyalty itself, compared to the new-comer in the field 
of journalism. The sudden uprising of a most porten- 
tous comet sweeping close to this planet of ours could 
hardly create more unfeigned astonishment in the mind 
of people in general, than did the appearance of this 
wonderful newspaper, brimful of open and avowed sedi- 
tion, crammed with incitements to insurrection, and with 
diligently prepared instructions for the destruction of 
her Majesty's troops, barracks, stores, and magazines. 
Men rubbed their eyes, as they read its articles and 
correspondence, scarcely believing that any man in his 
sober senses would venture, in any part of the Queen's 
dominions, to put such things in print. But there were 
the articles and the letters, nevertheless, on fair paper 
and in good type, published in a duly registered news- 
paper, bearing the impressed stamp of the Customs — a 
sign to all men that the proprietor was bound in heavy 
sureties to the government against the publication of 



80 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

"libel, blasphemy, or sedition!" — couched, moreover, in 
a style of language possessing such grace and force, such 
delicacy of finish, and yet such marvellous strength, rich 
with so much of quiet humor, and bristling with such 
rasping sarcasm and penetrating invective, that they 
were read as an intellectual luxury even by men who 
regarded as utterly wild and wicked the sentiments they 
conveyed. The first editorial utterance in this journal 
consisted of a letter from Mr. Mitchel to the Viceroy, 
in which that functionary was addressed as " The Right 
Hon. the Earl of Clarendon, Englishman, calling himself 
her Majesty's Lord Lieutenant-General and General 
Governor of Ireland." The purport of the document 
w r as to declare, above-board, the aims and objects of the 
JJ nited Irishman — a journal with which, wrote Mr. Mitchel, 
" your lordship and your lordship's masters and servants 
are to have more to do than may be agreeable either to 
you or me." That that purpose was to resume the 
struggle which had been waged by Tone and Emmet, or, 
as Mr. Mitchel put it, " the Holy War, to sweep this 
island clear of the English name and nation." u We 
differ," he said, li from the illustrious conspirators of '98, 
not in principle — no, not an iota — but, as I shall presently 
show you, materially as to the mode of action." And 
the difference was to consist in this — that, whereas the 
revolutionary organization in Ninety-eight was a secret 
one, which was ruined by spies and informers, that 
of Forty-eight was to be an open one, concerning 
winch informers could tell nothing that its promoters 
would not willingly proclaim from the housetops. " If 
you desire," he wrote, "to have a Castle detective em- 
ployed about the United Irishman office in Trinity-street, 
I shall make no objection, provided the man be sober 
and honest. If Sir George Grey or Sir William Somer- 
ville would like to read our correspondence, we make 
him welcome for the present — only let the letters be 
forwarded without losing a post." Of the fact that he 
would speedily be called to account for his conduct in 
one of her Majesty's courts of law, the writer of this 
defiant language was perfectly cognizant j but he declared 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 81 

that the inevitable prosecution would be bis opportunity 
of achieving a victory over tbe government. " For, be it 
known to you," be wrote, " that in sucb a case you shall 
either publicly, boldly, notoriously pack a jury, or else 
see the accused rebel walk a free man out of the court of 
Queen's Bench — which will be a victory only less than 
the rout of your lordship's red-coats in the open field." 
In case of his defeat, other men would take up the 
cause and maintain it, until at last England would have 
to fall back on her old system of courts-martial, and 
triangles, and free quarters, and Irishmen would find 
that there was no help for them " in franchises, in 
votings, in spoutings, in shoutings, and toasts drank 
with enthusiasm — nor in anything in this world, save 
the extensor and contractor muscles of their right arms, 
in these and the goodness of (rod above." The con- 
clusion of this extraordinary address to her Majesty's 
representative was in the following terms : — 

"In plain English, my Lord Earl, the deep and irreconcilable 
disaffection of this people to all British laws, lawgivers, and law 
administrators, shall find a voice. That holy Hatred of foreign 
dominion which nerved our noble predecessos fifty years ai;o for 
the dungeon, the field, or the gallows (though of late years it has 
worn a vile nisi prius gown, and snivelled somewhat in courts of 
law and on spouting platforms) still lives, thank God! and glows 
as fierce and hot as ever. To educate that holy Hatred, to make 
it know itself, and avow itself, and, at least, fill itself full, I hereby 
devote the columns of the United Irishman." 

After this address to the Lord Lieutenant, Mr. Mitcbel 
took to addressing the farming classes ; and it is really a 
study to observe the exquisite precision, the clearness, 
and the force of the language he employed to convey his 
ideas to them. In his second letter he supposes the case 
of a farmer who has the entire produce of his land in 
his haggard, in the shape of six stacks of corn ; he shows 
that three of these ought, in all honor and conscience, 
to be sufficient for the landlord and the government to 
seize upon, leaving the other three to support the family 
of the man whose labor had produced them. But what 
are the facts?— the landlord and the government sweep 



82 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

all away, and the peasant and his family starve by the 
ditch sides. As an illustration of this condition of things, 
he quotes from a southern paper an account of an inquest 
held on the body of a man named Boland, and on the 
bodies of his two daughters, who, as the verdict declared, 
had "died of cold and starvation," although occupants 
of a farm of over twenty acres in extent. On this 
melancholy case the comment of the editor of the United 
Irishman was as as follows : — 

" Now what became of poor Boland's twenty acres of crop ? Part 
of it went to Gibraltar, to victual the garrison; part to South 
Africa, to provision the robber army; part went to Spain, to pay 
for the landlord's wine; part to Loudon, to pay the interest of his 
honor's mortgage to the Jews. The English ate some of it ; the 
Chinese had their share; the Jews and the Gentiles divided it 
amongst them — and there was none for Boland." 

As to the manner in which the condition and fate of 
poor Boland were to be avoided, abundant instructions 
were given in every number. The anti-tithe movement 
was quoted as a model to begin with j but, of course, 
that was to be improved upon. The idea that the people 
would not venture on such desperate movements, and 
had grown enamored of the Peace policy and of " Patience 
and Perseverance," Mr. Mitchell refused to entertain for 
a moment : — 

"I will not believe that Irishmen are so degraded and utterly 
lost as this. The Earth is awakening from sleep; a flash of electric 
fire is passing through the dumb millions. Democracy is girding 
himself once more like a strong man to run a race; and slumbering 
nations are arising in their might, and ' shaking their invincible 
locks.' Oh! my countrymen, look up, look up! Arise from the 
death-dust where you have long been lying, and let this light visit 
your eyes also, and touch your souls. Let your ears drink in the 
blessed words, 'Liberty! Fraternity! Equality!' which are soon to 
ring from pole to pole ! Clear steel will, ere long, dawn upon you 
in your desolate darkness: and the rolling thunder of the People's 
cannon will drive before it many a heavy cloud that has long hidden 
from you the iace of heaven. Pray for that day; and preserve life 
and health that you may worthily meet it. Above all, let the man 
amongst you who has no gun sell his garment and buy one." 

So Mr. Mitchell went on for some weeks, preaching in 
earnest and exciting language the necessity of prepara- 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 83 

tion for an immediate grapple with " the enemy." In 
the midst of his labors came the startling news of 
another revolution in France, Louis Philippe in full flight, 
and the proclamation of a Republic. Yet a few days 
more and the Berliners had risen and triumphed, only 
stopping short of chasing their king away because he 
conceded all they were pleased to require of him ; then 
came insurrection in Sicily, insurrection in Lombardy, 
insurrection in Milan, insurrection in Hungary — in short, 
the revolutionary movement became general throughout 
Europe, and thrones and principalities were tumbling 
and tottering in all directions. Loud was the complaint 
in the United Irishman because Dublin was remaining 
tranquil. It was evident, however, that the people and 
their leaders were feeling the revolutionary impulse, and 
that matters were fast hurrying towards an outbreak. 
John Mitchel knew that a crisis was at hand, and de- 
voted all his energies to making the best use of the short 
time that his newspaper had to live. His writing be- 
came fiercer, more condensed, and more powerful than 
ever. Lord Clarendon was now addressed as "Her 
Majesty's Executioner-General and General Butcher of 
Ireland," and instructions for street warfare and all sorts 
of operations suitable for an insurgent populace occupied 
a larger space than ever in his paper. But the govern- 
ment were now resolved to close with their bold and 
clever enemy. On Tuesday, the 21st of March, 1848, 
Messrs. O'Brien, Meagher, and Mitchel were arrested, 
the former for seditious speeches uttered at a meeting 
of the Confederation held on the 15th of that month, 
the latter for three seditious articles published in the 
United Irishman. All were released on bail, and when 
the trials came on, in the month of May, disagreements 
of the jury took place in the cases of O'Brien and 
Meagher. But before the trial of Mr. Mitchel could be 
proceeded with, he was arrested on a fresh charge of 
"treason-felony" — a new crime, which had been manu- 
factured by act of Parliament a few weeks before. He 
was, therefore, fast in the toils, and with but little chance 
of escape. Little concern did this give the brave-hearted 



S4 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

patriot, who only hoped and prayed that at last the time 
had come when his countrymen would launch out upon 
the resolute course of action which he had so earnestly 
recommended to them. From his cell in Newgate, on 
the 16th of May, he addressed to them one of his most 
exciting letters, of which the following are the concluding 



" For me, T abide my fate joyfully; for I know that, whatever 
betide me, my work is nearly done. Yes; Moral Force and 
'Patience and Perseverance' are scattered to the wild winds of 
heaven. The music my countrymen now love best to hear is the 
rattle of arms and the ring of the ritle. As I sit here and write in 
my lonely cell, I hear, just dying away, the measured tramp of ten 
thousand marching men — my gallant confederates, unarmed and 
silent, but with hearts like bended bow, waiting till the time comes. 
They have marched past my prison windows, to let me know there 
are Ten thousand fighting men in Dublin — 'felons' in heart and 
soul. 

" I thank God for it. The game is afoot at last. The liberty of 
Ireland may come sooner or later, by peaceful negotiation or bloody 
conflict — but it is sure; and wherever between the poles I may 
chance to be, I will hear the crash of the downfall of the thrice- 
accursed British Empire." 

On Monday, May 22d, 1 848, the trial of Mr. Mitchel 
commenced in the Commission Court, Green-street, before 
Baron Lefroy. He was eloquently defended by the 
veteran lawyer and uncompromising patriot, Robert 
Holmes, the brother-in-law of Robert Emmet. The 
mere law of the case was strong against the prisoner, but 
Mr. Holmes endeavored to raise the minds of the jury 
to the moral views of the case, upon which English juries 
have often acted regardless of the letter of the Act of 
Parliament. With a jury of Irishmen impartially chosen 
it would have been a good defence, but the Castle had 
made sure of their men in this case. At five o'clock on 
the evening of the 26th, the case went to the jury, who, 
after an absence of two hours, returned into court with a 
verdict of " Guilty." 

That verdict was a surprise to no one. On the day 
the jury was empanelled, the prisoner and every one 
else knew what it was to be. It was now his turn 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 85 

to have a word to say for himself, and he spoke, as was 
his wont, in plain terms, answering thus the question 
that had been put to him : — 

" I have to say that I have been found guilty by a packed jury — 
by the jury of a partisan sheriff — by a jury not empanelled even 
according to the law of England. I have been found guilty by a 
packed jury obtained by a juggle — a jury not empanelled by a 
sheriff, but by a juggler." 

This was touching the high sheriff on a tender place, 
and he immediately called out for the protection of the 
court. Whereupon Baron Lefroy interposed, and did 
gravel}'' and deliberately, as is the manner of judges, 
declare that the imputation which had just been made on 
the character of that excellent official, the high sheriff, 
was most " unwarranted and unfounded." He adduced, 
however, no reason in support of that declaration — not a 
shadow of proof that the conduct of the aforesaid official 
was fair or honest — but proceeded to say that the jury 
had found the prisoner guilty on evidence supplied by 
his own writings, some of which his lordship, with a 
proper expression of horror on his countenance, pro- 
ceeded to read from his notes. In one of the prisoner's 
publications, he said, there appeared the following pas- 
sage : u There is now growing on the soil of Ireland a 
wealth of grain, and roots, and cattle, far more than 
enough to sustain in life and comfort all the inhabitants 
of the island. That wealth must not leave us another 
year, not until every grain of it is fought for in every 
stage, from the tying of the sheaf to the loading of the 
ship ; and the effort necessary to that simple act of self- 
preservation will, at one and the same blow, prostrate 
British dominion and landlordism together." In refe- 
rence to this piece of writing, and many others of a 
similar nature, his lordship remarked that no effort had 
been made to show that tlie prisoner was not responsible 
for them ; it was only contended that they involved no 
moral guilt. But the law was to be vindicated ; and it 
now became his duty to pronounce the sentence of the 
court, which was — that the prisoner be transported 



86 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

beyond the seas for a term of fourteen years. T*he 
severity of the sentence occasioned general surprise; a 
general suspiration and low murmur were heard through 
the court. Then there was a stillness as of death, in the 
midst, of which the tones of John Mitchel's voice rang 
out clearly, as he said : — 

" The law has now done its part, and the Queen of England, her 
crown and government in Ireland, are now secure, pursuant to act 
of parliament. I have done my part also. Three months ago I 
promised Lord Clarendon and his government in this country, that 
I would pi-ovoke him into his courts of justice, as places of this 
kind are called, and that I would force him publicly and notori- 
ously to pack a jur}' against me to convict me, or else that I would 
walk a free man out of this court, and provoke him to a contest in 
another field. My lord, I knew I was setting my life on that cast, 
but I knew that in either event the victory should be with me, and 
it is with me. Neither the jury, nor the judges, nor any other man 
in this court presumes to imagine that it is a criminal who stands 
in this dock." 

Here there w r ere murmurs of applause, which caused 
the criers to call out for " Silence \ v and the police to 
look fiercely on the people around them. Mr. Mitchel 
resumed : — 

"I have shown what the law is made of in Ireland. I have 
shown that her Majesty's government sustains itself In Ireland by 
packed juries, by partisan judges, by perjured sheriffs." 

Baron Lefroy enterposed. The court could not sit 
there to hear the prisoner arraign the jurors, the sheriffs, 
the courts, and the tenure by which England holds this 
country. Again the prisoner spoke : — 

" I have acted all through this business, from the first, under 
a strong sense of duty. I do not repent anything that I have 
done, and I believe that the course which I have opened is only 
commenced, The Roman who saw his hand burning to ashes before 
the tyrant, promised that three hundred should follow out his 
enterprise. Can I not promise for one, for two, for three, aye tor 
hundreds?" 

As he uttered these words, Mr. Mitchel looked proudly 
into the faces of the friends near him, and around the 
court. His words and his glance were immediately 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 87 

responded to by an outburst of passionate voices from all 
parts of the building, exclaiming — " For me ! for me ! 
promise for me, Mitchel ! and for me I" And then came 
a clapping of hands and a stamping of feet, that sounded 
loud and sharp as a discharge of musketry, followed by 
a shout like a peal of thunder. John Martin, Thomas 
Francis Meagher, and Devin Reilly, with other gentle- 
men who stood close by the dock, reached over it to 
grasp the hand of the new-made felon. The aspect of 
affairs looked alarming for a moment. The policemen 
laid violent hands on the persons near them, and pulled 
them about. Mr. Meagher and Mr. Doheny were taken 
into custody. Baron Lefroy, in a high state of excite- 
ment, cried out — " Officer ! remove Mr. Mitchel !" and 
then, with his brother judges, retired hurriedly from the 
bench. The turnkeys who stood in the dock with Mr. 
Mitchel motioned to him that he was to move ; he took 
a step or two down the little stairs under the flooring of 
the court-house, and his friends saw him no more. 

He was led through the passages that communicated 
with the adjoining prison, and ushered into a dark and 
narrow cell, in which, however, his detention was of but 
a few hours 7 duration. At four o'clock in the evening of 
that day — May 27th, 1848 — the prison van, escorted by 
a large force of mounted police and dragoons, with drawn 
sabres, drove up to the prison gate. It was opened, and 
forth walked John Mitchel — in fetters. A heavy chain 
was attached to his right leg by a shackle at the ankle j 
the other end was to have been attached to the left leg, 
but, as the jailors had not time to effect the connection 
when the order came for the removal of the prisoner, 
they bade him take it in his hand, and it was in this 
plight, with a festoon of iron from his hand to his foot, 
he passed from the prison into the street — repeating, 
mayhap, to his own heart the words uttered by Wolfe 
Tone in circumstances not dissimilar : — u For the cause 
which I have embraced, I feel prouder to wear these 
chains, than if I were decorated with the star and garter 
of England." Four or five police inspectors assisted him 
to step into the van, the door was closed after him, the 



88 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

word was given to the escort, and off went the cavalcade 
at a thundering pace to the North- wall, where a govern- 
nient steamer, the Shearwater, was lying with her steam 
up, in readiness to receive him. He clambered the side- 
ladder of the steamer with some assistance ; on reaching 
the dock, the chains tripped him and he fell forward. 
Scarcely was he on his feet again, when the paddles of 
the steamer were beating the water, and the vessel was 
moving from the shores of that " Isle of Destiny," which 
he loved so well, and a sight of which has never since 
gladdened the eves of John Mitchel. 

The history of Mr. Mitchel's subsequent career, which 
has been an eventful one, does not rightly fall within the 
scope of this work. Suffice it to say that on June the 
1st, 1848, he was placed on board the Scourge man-of- 
war, which then sailed off for Bermuda. There Mr. 
Mitchel was retained on board a penal ship, or ll hulk,' 7 
until April 22d, 1849, when he was transferred to the 
ship Neptune, on her way from England to the Cape 
of Good Hope, whither she was taking a batch of British 
convicts. Those convicts the colonists at the Cape re- 
fused to receive into their country, and a long struggle 
ensued between them and the commander of the 
Neptune, who wished to deposit his cargo according to 
instructions. The colonists were willing to make an 
exception in the case of Mr. Mitchel, but the naval officer 
could not think of making any compromise in the matter. 
The end of the contest was that the vessel, with her 
cargo of convicts on board, sailed on February 19th, 1850, 
for Van Diemen's Land, where she arrived on April 7th 
of the same year. In consideration of the hardships they 
had undergone by reason of their detention at the Cape, 
the government granted a conditional pardon to all the 
criminal convicts on their arrival at Hobart Town. It 
set them free on the condition that they should not 
return to the " United Kingdom." Mr. Mitchel and the 
other political convicts were less mercifully treated. It 
was not until the year 1854 that a similar amount of 
freedom was given to these gentlemen. Some months 
previous to the arrival of Mr. Mitchel at Hobart Town, 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 89 

his friends, William Smith O'Brien, John Martin, Thomas 
F. Meagher, Kevin Izod O'Doherty, Terence Bel lew 
MacManus, and Patrick O'Donoghue, had reached the 
same place, there to serve out the various terms of 
transportation to which they had been sentenced. All, 
except Mr. O'Brien, who had refused to enter into -these 
arrangements, were at that time on parole — living, how- 
ever, in separate and limited districts, and no two of 
them nearer than thirty or forty miles. On his landing 
from the Neptune, Mr. Mitchel, in consideration of 
the delicate state of his health, was allowed to reside 
with Mr. Martin in the Both well district. 

In the summer of the year 1853, a number of Irish 
gentlemen in America took measures to effect the re- 
lease of one or more of the Irish patriots from Van 
Diemen's Land, and Mr. P. J. Smyth sailed from New 
York on that patriotic mission. Arrived in Van Diemen's 
Land, the authorities, who seemed to have suspicion 
of his business, placed him under arrest, from which he 
was released after three days' detention. The friends 
soon managed to meet and come to an understanding as 
to their plan of future operations, in conformity with 
which, Mr. Mitchel penned the following letter to the 
governor of the island: — 

"Bothwell, 8th June, 1853. 
"Sir — I hereby resign the 'comparative liberty,' called 'ticket- 
of-leave/ and revoke my parole of honor. I shall forthwith pre- 
sent myself before the police magistrate of Bothwell, at his police 
office, show him this letter, and offer myself to be taken into 
custody. I am, sir, your obedient servant, 

"John Mitchel." 

On the next day, June the 9th, Mr. Mitchel and Mr. 
Smyth went to the police office, saw the magistrate with 
his attending constables j handed him the letter, waited 
until he had read its contents, addressed to him a verbal 
statement to the same effect, and, while he appeared to 
be paralyzed with astonishment, and uncertain what to 
do, touched their hats to him and left the office. Chase 
after them was vain, as they had mounted a pair of fleet 
steeds after leaving the presence of his worship ; but it 



90 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

was not until six weeks afterwards that they were able 
to get shipping and leave the island. On the 12th of 
October, 1853, Mr. Mitchel was landed safe in California 
— to the intense delight of his countrymen throughout the 
American States, who celebrated the event by many 
joyful banquets. 

Since then, Mr. Mitchel has occupied himself mainly 
with the press. He started the Citizen in New York, 
and subsequently, at Knoxville, Tennessee, the Southern 
Citizen. As editor of the Richmond Examiner during the 
American civil war, he ably supported the Southern 
cause, to which he gave a still stronger pledge of his 
attachment in the services and the lives of two of his 
brave sons. One of these gentlemen, Mr. William 
Mitchel, was killed at the battle of Gettysburg ; the 
other, Captain John Mitchel, who had been placed in 
command of the important position of Fort Sumter, was 
shot, on the parapet of that work, on July 19th, 1864. 
Shortly after the close of the war, Mr. John Mitchel was 
taken prisoner by the Federal government ; but after un- 
dergoing an imprisonment of some months his release was 
ordered by President Johnson, acting on the solicitation 
of a large and influential deputation of Irishmen. In 
the latter part of the year 1867, turning to the press 
again, he started the Irish Citizen at New York, and in 
that journal, at the date of this writing, he continues to 
wield his trenchant pen on behalf of the Irish cause. 
To that cause, through all the lapse of time, and change 
of scene, and vicissitude of fortune which he has known, 
his heart has remained for ever true. He has suffered 
much for it j that he may live to see it triumphant, is a 
prayer which finds an echo in the hearts of all his fellow- 
countrymen. 

We have written of Mr. Mitchel only in reference to 
his political career; but we can, without trenching 
in any degree on the domain of private life, supply 
some additional and authentic details which will be of 
interest to Irish readers. The distinguished subject 
of our memoir was born at Camnish, near Dungiven, 
in the county of Deny, on the 3d of November, 1.8J5. 



SPEECHES FEOM THE DOCK. 91 

His father was the Rev. John Mitch ol, at that time 
Presbyterian Minister of Duugiven, and a good patriot, 
too, having been — as we learn from a statement casually 
made by Mr. Mitchel in Conciliation Hall — one of the 
United Irishmen of 1798. The maiden name of his 
mother, who also came of a Presbyterian and county 
Derry family, was Mary Haslitt. At Newry, whither 
the Rev. Mr. Mitchel removed in the year 1823, and 
where he continued to reside till hi's death in 1843, 
young John Mitchel was sent to the school of Dr. David 
Henderson, from which he entered Trinity College, 
Dublin, about the year 1830 or 1831. He did not reside 
within the college, but kept his terms by coming up 
from the country to attend the quarterly examinations. 
Though he did not distinguish himself in his college 
course, and had paid no more attention to the books 
prescribed for his studies than seemed necessary for pass- 
ing his examinations respectably, John Mitchel was 
known to his intimate friends to be a fine scholar and 
possessed of rare ability. While still a college student, 
he was bound apprentice to a solicitor in Newry. Before 
the completion of his apprenticeship, in the year 1835, 
he married Jane Verner, a young lady of remarkable 
beauty, and only sixteen years of age at the time, a 
daughter of Captain James Verner. Not long after his 
marriage he entered into partnership in his profession, 
and in conformity with the arrangements agreed upon, 
went to reside at Banbridge, a town ten miles north of 
Newry, where he continued to practise as a solicitor 
until the death of Thomas Davis in IS 45. He had been 
an occasional contributor to the Nation almost from the 
date of its foundation ; its editors recognized at once his 
splendid literary powers, and when the "Library of 
Ireland" was projected, pressed him to write one of the 
volumes, suggesting as his subject the Life of Hugh 
O'Neill. How ably he fulfilled the task is known to his 
countrymen, who rightly regard the volume as one of 
the most valuable of the whole series. When death 
removed the amiable and gifted Thomas Davis from the 
scene of his labors, Mr. Duffy invited John Mitchel, as 



92 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

the man most worthy of all in Ireland, to take his place. 
Mr. Mitchel regarded the invitation as the call of his 
country. He gave up his professional business in Ban- 
bridge, removed with his wife and family to Dublin, and 
there, throwing himself heart and soul into the cause, 
fought it out boldly and impetuously until the day when, 
bound in British chains, " the enemy" bore him off from 
Ireland. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



JOHN MARTIN. 

When the law had consummated its crime, and the 
doom of the felon was pronounced against John Mitchel, 
there stood in the group that pressed round him in the 
dock and echoed back the assurances which he flung as 
a last defiance at his foes, a thoughtful, delicate-looking, 
but resolute young Irishman, whose voice perhaps was 
not the loudest of those that spoke there, but whose 
heart throbbed responsively to his words, and for whom 
the final message of the unconquerable rebel possessed a 
meaning and significance that gave it the force of a spe- 
cial revelation. "Promise for me, Mitchel," they cried 
out, but he had no need to join in that request; he had 
no need to intimate to Mr. Mitchel his willingness to 
follow out the enterprise which that fearless patriot had 
so boldly commenced. On the previous day, sitting with 
the prisoner in his gloomy cell, John Martin of Lough - 
orne had decided on the course which he would take 
in the event of the suppression of the United Irishman 
and the transportation of its editor. He would start a 
successor to that journal, and take the place of his dear 
friend at the post of danger. It was a noble resolve, 
deliberately taken, and resolutely and faithfully was it 
carried out. None can read the history of that act of 
daring, and of the life of sacrifice by which it has been 
followed, and not agree with us that, while the memories 
of Tone, of Emmet, and of Russell, are cherished in 
Ireland, the name of John Martin ought not to be forgotten. 

A few days subsequent to that memorable scene in 
Green-street court-house, John Martin quitted his com- 
fortable home and the green slopes of Loughorne, sepa- 
rated himself from the friends he loved and the relatives 
who idolized him, and entered on the stormy career of a 
national leader and journalist, at a time when to advocate 
the principles of nationality was to incur the ferocious 



94 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

hostility of a government whose thirst for vengeance was 
only whetted by the transportation of John Mitchel. 
He knew the danger he was braving; he knew that the 
path on which he entered led down to suffering and ruin ; 
he stood in the gap from which Mitchel had been hurled, 
with a full consciousness of the perils of the situation; 
but unflinchingly and unhesitatingly as the martyr goes 
to his death, he threw himself into the thinning ranks 
of the patriot leaders ; and when the event that he anti- 
cipated arrived, and the prison gates opened to receive 
him — then, too, in the midst of indignities and priva- 
tions — he displayed an imperturbable firmness and con- 
tempt for physical suffering, that showed how powerless 
persecution is to subdue the spirit that self-conscious 
righteousness sustains. 

His history, previous to the conviction of his friend 
and school-fellow, John Mitchel, if it includes no events 
of public inportance, possesses for us all the interest 
that attaches to the early life of a good and remarkable 
man. John Martin was born at Loughorne, in the lord- 
ship of Newry, Co. Down, on the 8th of September, 
1812; being the eldest son of Samuel Martin and Jane 
Harshaw, both natives of that neighborhood, and mem- 
bers of Presbyterian families settled there for many 
generations. About the time of his birth, his father 
purchased the fee-simple of the large farm which he had 
previously rented, and two of his uncles having made 
similar investments, the family became proprietors of 
the townland on which they lived. Mr. Samuel Martin, 
who died in 1831, divided his attention between the 
management of the linen business — a branch of industry 
in which the family had partly occupied themselves for 
some generations — and the care of his land. His family 
consisted of nine children, of whom John Martin — the 
subject of our sketch — was the second-born. The prin- 
ciples of his family, if they could not be said to possess 
the hue of nationality, were at least liberal and toler- 
ant. In 7 98, the Martins of Loughorne were stern oppo- 
nents of the United Irishmen ; but in 7 82, his father 
and uncles were enrolled amongst the volunteers, and 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 95 

the Act of Union was opposed by them as a national 
calamity. It was from his good mother, however, a 
lady of refined taste and remarkable mental culture, that 
young John derived his inclination for literary pursuits, 
and learned the maxims of justice and equality that 
swayed him through life. He speedily discarded the 
prejudices against Catholic Emancipation which were 
not altogether unknown amongst his family, and which 
even found some favor with himself in the unreflecting 
days of boyhood. The natural tendency of his mind, 
however, was as true to the principles of justice as the 
needle to the pole; and the quiet rebuke that one day 
fell from his uncle — " What ! John, would you not give 
your Catholic fellow-countrymen the same rights that 
you enjoy yourself ? n — having set him a-thinking for the 
first time on the subject, he soon formed opinions more 
in consonance with liberality and fair play. 

When about twelve years of age, young Martin was 
sent to the school of Dr. Henderson at Newry, where he 
first became acquainted with John Mitchel, then attend- 
ing the same seminary as a day scholar. We next find 
John Martin an extern student of Trinity College, and 
a year after the death of his father he took out his de- 
gree in Arts. He was now twenty years old, and up to 
this time had suffered much from a constitutional affec- 
tion, being subject from infancy to fits of spasmodic 
asthma. Strange to say, the disease which troubled him 
at frequent recurring intervals at home, seldom attacked 
him when away from Loughorne, and partly for the 
purpose of escaping it, he took up his residence in Dub- 
lin in 1833, and devoted himself to the study of medi- 
cine. He never meditated earning his living by the 
profession, but he longed for the opportunity of assuaging 
the sufferings of the afflicted poor. The air of the 
dissecting-room, however, was too much for Martin's 
delicate nervous* organization j the kindly encouragement 
of his fellow-students failed to induce him to breathe its 
fetid atmosphere a second time, and he was forced to 
content himself with a theoretical knowledge of the 
profession. By diligent study and with the assistance 



96 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

of lectures, anatomical plates, etc., he managed to con- 
quer the difficulty; and he had obtained nearly all the 
certificates necessary for taking out a medical decree, 
when he was recalled in 1835 to Loughorne, by the death 
of his uncle John, whose house and lands he inherited. 

During the four years following he lived at Loughorne, 
discharging the duties of a resident country gentleman 
as they are seldom performed in Ireland, and endearing 
himself to all classes, but particularly to the poor, by 
his gentle disposition, purity of mind, and benevolence 
of heart. In him the afflicted and the poverty-stricken 
ever found a sympathizing friend; and if none of the 
rewards which the ruling faction were ready to shower 
on the Irishman of his position who looked to the Castle 
for inspiration, fell to his share, he enjoyed a recompense 
more precious in the prayers and the blessings of the 
poor. The steps of his door were crowded with the 
patients who flocked to him for advice, and for whom 
he prescribed gratuitously — not without some reluctance, 
however, arising from distrust of his own abilities and 
an unwillingness to interfere with the practice of the 
regular profession. But the diffidence with which he 
regarded his own efforts was not shared by the people 
of the district. Their faith in his professional skill was 
unbounded, and perhaps the confidence which they felt 
in his power contributed in some measure to the success 
that attended his practice. 

In 1839 Mr. Martin sailed from Bristol to New York, 
and travelled thence to the extreme west of Upper 
Canada, to visit a relative who had settled there. On 
that occasion he was absent from Ireland nearly twelve 
months, and during his stay in America he made some 
tours in Canada and the Northern States, visiting the 
Falls, Toronto, Montreal, Philadelphia, New York, 
Washington, Pittsburg, and Cleveland. In 1841 he 
made a brief continental tour, and visited the chief 
points of attraction along the Rhine. During this time 
Mr. Martin's political ideas became developed and ex- 
panded, and though, like Smith O'Brien, he at first with- 
held his sympathies from the Repeal, agitation, in a 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 97 

short time he became impressed with the justice of the 
national demand for independence. His retiring dispo- 
sition kept him from appearing very prominently before 
the public ; but the value of his adhesion to the Repeal 
Association was felt to be great by those who knew his 
uprightness, his disinterestedness, and his ability. 

When the suicidal policy of O'Connell drove the Con- 
federates from Conciliation Hall, John Martin was not 
a silent spectator of the crisis, and in consequence of 
the manly sentiments he expressed with reference to the 
treatment to which the Young Ireland party had been 
subjected, he ceased to be a member of the Association. 
There was another cause, too, for his secession. A stand- 
ing taunt in the mouth of the English press was, that 
O'Connell pocketed the peoples' money and took care to 
let nobody know what he did with it. To put an end 
to this reproach, Mr. Martin asked that the accounts 'of 
the Association should be published. " Publish the ac- 
counts ! " shrieked the well-paid gang that marred the 
influence and traded in the politics of O'Connell, — " mon- 
strous ! " and they silenced the troublesome purist by 
suppressing his letters and expelling him from the Asso- 
ciation. In the ranks of the Confederates, however, 
Martin found more congenial society ; amongst them he 
found men as earnest, as sincere, and as single-minded 
as himself, and by them the full worth of his character 
was soon appreciated. He frequently attended their 
meetings, and he it was who filled the chair during the 
prolonged debates that ended with the temporary with- 
drawal of Mitchel from the Confederation. When the 
United Irishman was started he became a contributor to 
its columns, and he continued to write in its pages up to 
the date of its suppression, and the conviction of its 
editor and proprietor. 

There were many noble and excellent qualities which 
the friends of John Martin knew him to possess. Recti- 
tude of principle, abhorrence of injustice and intoler- 
ance, deep love of country, the purity and earnestness 
of a saint, allied with the kindliness and inoflensive- 
ness of childhood j amiability and disinterestedness, 



98 SPEECHES FEOM THE DOCK. 

together with a perfect abnegation of self, and total 
freedom from the vanity which affected a few of his 
compatriots — these they gave him credit for ; bat they 
were totally unprepared for the lionlike courage, the 
boldness, and the promptitude displayed by him, when 
the government, by the conviction of Mitchel, flung 
down the gauntlet to the people of Ireland. Hastily 
settling up his worldly accounts in the North, he re- 
turned to Dublin, to stake his fortune and his life in the 
cause which he had promised to serve. The United Irish- 
man was gone, but Martin had undertaken that its place 
in Irish journalism should not be vacant ; and a few 
weeks after the office in Trinity-street was sacked, he re- 
occupied the violated and empty rooms, and issued there- 
from the first number of the Irish Felon. There was no 
halting-place. in Irish journalism then. The Nation had 
already flung peace and conciliation and u balmy forgive- 
ness" to the winds, and advocated the creed of the 
sword. The scandalous means used to procure a verdict 
of guilty against Mitchel tore to tatters the last rag of 
the constitution in Ireland. It was idle to dictate ob- 
servance of the law which the government themselves 
were engaged in violating, and the Nation was not the 
journal to brook the tyranny of the authorities. "With 
a spirit that cannot be too highly praised, it called for 
the overthrow of the government that had sent Mitchel 
in chains into banishment, and summoned the people of 
Ireland to prepare to assert their rights by the only 
means now left them — the bullet and the pike. And 
the eyes of men whose hearts were "weary waiting for 
the fray," began to glisten as they read the burning 
words of poetry and prose in which the Nation preached 
the gospel of liberty. It was to take its side by that 
journal, and to rival it in the boldness of its language 
and the spirit of its arguments, that the Irish Felon was 
established ; and it executed its mission well. rt I do 
not love political agitation for its own sake," exclaimed 
Martin, in his opening address in the first number. 
" At best I regard it as a necessary evil ; and if I were 
not convinced that my countrymen are determined on 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 99 

vindicating their rights, and that they really intend to 
free themselves, I would at once withdraw from the 
straggle and leave my native land forever. I could not 
live in Ireland and derive my means of life as a member 
of the Irish community, without feeling a citizen's re- 
sponsibilities in Irish public affairs. Those responsi- 
bilities involve the guilt of national robbery and murder 
— of a system which arrays the classes of our people 
against each other's prosperity and very lives, like beasts 
of prey, or rather like famishing sailors on a wreck — 
of the debasement and moral ruin of a people endowed 
by God with surpassing resources for the attainment of 
human happiness and human dignity. I cannot be loyal 
to a system of meanness, terror, and corruption, although 
it usurp the title and assume the form of a ' govern- 
ment/ So long as such a ' government ' presumes to 
injure and insult me, and those in whose prosperity I 
am involved, I must offer to it all the resistance in my 
power. But if I despaired of successful resistance, I 
would certainly remove myself from under such a 
' government's', actual authority ; that I do not exile 
myself is a proof that I hope to witness the overthrow, 
and assist in the overthrow, of the most abominable 
tyranny the world now groans under — the British Im- 
perial system. To gain permission for the Irish people 
to care for their own lives, their own happiness and dig- 
nity — to abolish the political conditions which compel 
the classes of our people to hate and to murder each 
other, and which compel the Irish people to hate the very 
name of the English — to end the reign of fraud, perjury, 
corruption, and 'government' butchery, and to make 
law, order, and peace possible in Ireland, the Irish Felon 
takes its place amongst the combatants in the holy war 
now waging in this island against foreign tyranny. In 
conducting it my weapons shall be — the truth, the whole 
truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God ! " 

Such "open and avowed treason*' as this could not 
long continue to be published. Before the third number of 
the Felon saw the light, a warrant for Mr. Martin's arrest 
was in the hands of the detectives, and its fifth was its 



100 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

last. On Saturday, July 8th, Mr. Martin surrendered 
himself into custody, having kept out of the way for a 
few days to prevent his being tried, under the " gagging 
act/ 7 at the Commission sitting when the warrant was 
issued, and which adjourned until August — the time 
fixed for the insurrection — in the interim. On the same 
day, Duffy, Williams, and O'Doherty were arrested. 
Martin was imprisoned in Newgate, but he continued to 
write from within his cell for the Felon, and its last 
number, published on July 22d, contains a spirited 
letter signed with his initials, which formed portion of 
tbe indictment against him on his trial. In this letter, 
Martin calls on his countrymen in impassioned words to 
" stand to their arms ! n u Let them menace you," he 
writes from his dungeon, " with the hulks or the gibbet 
for daring to speak or write your love to Ireland. Let 
them threaten *to mow you down with grape-shot, as 
they massacred your kindred with famine and plague. 
Spurn their brutal ' Acts of Parliament ' — trample upon 
their lying proclamations — fear them not ! n 

On Tuesday, August 15th, John Martin's trial com- 
menced in Green-street court-house, the indictment 
being for treason-felony. " Several of his tenantry," 
writes the special correspondent of the London Morning 
Herald, " came up to town to be present at his trial, and, 
as they hoped, at his escape; for they could not bring 
themselves to believe that a man so amiable, so gentle, 
and so pious, as they had so long known him, could be " — 
this is the Englishman's way of putting it — " an inciter 
to bloodshed. It is really melancholy," added the writer, 
"to hear the poor people of the neighborhood of 
Lough orne speak of their benefactor. He was ever ready 
to administer medicine and advice gratuitously to his 
poor neighbors and all who sought his assistance ; and 
according to the reports I have received, he did an in- 
calculable amount of good in his way. As a landlord, he 
w r as belovod by his tenantry for his kindness and 
liberality, while, from his suavity of manner and excel- 
lent qualities, he was a great favorite with the gentry 
around him." 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 101 

At eight o'clock, p. m., on Thursday, August 17th, the 
jury came into court with a verdict of guilty against the 
prisoner, recommending him to mercy, on the grounds 
that the letter on which he was convicted was written 
from the prison, and penned under exciting circum- 
stances. On the following day, Mr. Martin was brought 
up to receive sentence, and asked, after the usual form, 
whether he had anything to say against the sentence 
being pronounced ? The papers of the time state that 
he appeared perfectly unmoved by the painful position 
in which he was placed — that he looked around the court- 
house in a calm, composed, dignified manner, and then 
spoke the following reply in clear, unfaltering tones : — 

" My lords: —1 have no imputation to cast upon the bench, neither 
have I anything \o charge the jury with, of unfairness towards me. 
I think the judges desired to do their duty honestly as upright 
judges and men ; and that the twelve men who were put into the 
box, as I believe, not to try, but to convict me, voted honestly, 
according to their prejudices. I have, no personal enmity against 
the sheriff, sub-sheriff, or any of the gentlemen connected with 
the arrangement of the jury-panel — nor against the attorney- 
general, nor any other person engaged in the proceedings called my 
trial ; but, my lords, I consider that I have not been yet tried. There 
have been certain formalities carried on here for three days regard- 
ing me, ending in a verdict of guilty : but I have not been put upon 
my country, as the constitution said to exist in Ireland requires. 
Twelve of my countrymen, ' indifferently chosen," have not been 
put into that jury-box to try me, but twelve men who, I believe, 
have been selected by the parties who represent the crown, for the 
purpose of convicting and not of trying me. I believe they were 
put into that box, because the parties conducting the prosecution 
knew their political sentiments were hostile to mine, and because 
the matter at issue here is a political question — a matter of opinion, 
and not a matter of fact. I have nothing more to say as to the 
trial, except to repeat that, having watched the conduct of the 
judges, I consider them upright and honest men. I have this to 
add, that as to the charge I make with respect to the constitution 
of the panel and the selection of the jury, I have no legal evidence 
of the truth of my statement ; but there is no one who has a moral 
doubt of it. Every person knows that what I have stated is the fact; 
and I would represent to the judges, most respectfully, that they, 
a§ upright and honorable men and judges, and as citizens, ought 
to see that the administration of justice in this country is above 
suspicion. I have nothing more to say with regard to the trial; 
but I would be thankful to the court for permission to say a few 



102 SPEECHES FKOM THE DOCK. 



words in vindication of my character and motives, after sentence is 
passed." 

Baron Pennefather: — "No; we will not hear anything from you 
after sentence." 

Chief Baron: — "We cannot hear anything from you after sen- 
tence has been pronounced." 

Mr. Martin: — "Then, my lords, permit me to say that, admitting 
the narrow and confined constitutionl doctrines which I have heard 
preached in this court to be right, / am not guilty of the charge ac- 
cording to this act. I did not intend to devise or levy war against 
the Queen, or to depose the Queen. In the article of mine on which 
the jury framed their verdict of guilty, which was written in prison, 
and published in the last number of my paper, what I desired to 
do was this — to advise and encourage my countrymen to keep their 
arms, because that is their inalienable right, which no act of par- 
liament, no proclamation, can take away from them. It is, I re- 
peat, their inalienable right. I advised them to keep their arms ; 
and further, I advised them to use their arms, in their own defence, 
against all assailants— even assailants that might come to attack 
them, unconstitutionally and improperly using the Queen's name 
as their sanction. My object in all my proceedings has been simply 
to assist in establishing the national independence of Ireland, for 
the benefit of all the people of Ireland — noblemen, clergymen, 
judges, professional men — in fact, all Irishmen. I have sought that 
object: first, because I thought it was our right — because I think na- 
tional^independence is the right of the people of this country ;" and 
secondly, I admit that, being a man who loved retirement, I never 
would have engaged in politics did I not think it was necessary to 
do all in my power to make an end of the horrible scenes that this 
country presents — the pauperism, starvation, and crime, and vice, 
and hatred of all classes against each other. 1 thought there should 
be an end to that horrible system, Avhich, while it lasted, gave me 
no peace of mind; for I could not enjoy anything in my native 
country so long as I saw my countrymen forced to be vicious — 
forced to hate each other — and degraded to the level of paupers and 
brutes. That is the reason I engaged in politics. I acknowledge, 
as the solicitor-general has said, that I was but a weak assailant 
of the English power. I am not a good writer, and I am no orator. 
I had only two weeks' experience in conducting a newspaper until 
I was put into jail ; but I am satisfied to direct the attention of 
my countrymen to everything I have written and said, and to rest 
my character on a fair and candid examination of what I have put 
forward as my opinions. I shall say nothing in vindication of my 
motives but this — that every fair and honest man, no matter how 
prejudiced he may be, if he calmly considers what I have written 
and said, will be satisfied that my motives were pure and honor- 
able. I have nothing more to say." 

Then the judge proceeded to pass sentence. In the 
course of his remarks he referred to the recommendation 



SPEECHES FKOM THE DOCK. 103 

to mercy which came from the jury, whereupon Mr. 
Martin broke in. " I beg your lordship's pardon," he 
said, 1 1 1 cannot condescend to accept ' mercy ' where I 
believe I have been morally right j I want justice — not 
mercy." But he looked for it in vain. 

"Transportation for ten years beyond the seas" is 
spoken by the lips of the judge, and the burlesque of 
justice is at an end. Mr. Martin heard the sentence with 
perfect composure and self-possession, though the faces of 
his brothers and friends standing by showed signs of the 
deepest emotion. " Remove the prisoner," were the next 
words uttered, and then John Martin, the pure-minded, 
the high-souled, and the good, was borne off to the con- 
vict's cell in Newgate. 

Amongst the friends who clustered round the dock in 
which the patriot leader stood, and watched the progress 
of his trial with beating hearts, was Mr. James Martin, 
one of the prisoner's brothers. During the three long 
weary days occupied by the trial, his post had been 
by his brother's side, listening to the proceedings with 
the anxiety and solicitude which a brother alone can 
feel, and revealing by every line of his countenance 
the absorbing interest with which he regarded the issue. 
The verdict of the jury fell upon him with the bewilder- 
ing shock of an avalanche. He was stunned, stupefied, 
amazed ; he could hardly believe that he had heard the 
fatal words aright, and that u guilty " had been the ver- 
dict returned. He guilty ! he whose life was studded by 
good deeds, as stars stud the wintry sky; he guilty, 
whose kindly heart had always a throb for the suffering 
and the unfortunate, whose hand was ever extended to 
shield the oppressed, to succor the friendless, and to 
shelter the homeless and the needy j he " inspired by the 
devil " whose career had been devoted to an attempt to 
redress the sufferings of his fellow-countrymen, and whose 
sole object in life seemed to be to abridge the sufferings 
of the Irish people, to plant the doctrines of peace and 
good-will in every heart, and to make Ireland the home 
of harmony and concord, by rendering her prosperous 
and free ! It was a lie, a calumny, a brutal fabrication ! 



:- -. 



.1 r .: It r.-r 

t tine after llx. Jobs MartJcV coBiietiim, foe 
n Izod QTkvbeitT aere shipped off to Vaa 
Land - a board the Eifkutsfame, vime iLer 
i the month of Xoranber i.-iei 

"':--.:-- " "I - _-_---■ . " i--:-T-" :.- :ir 
iaatioa a ftx oar? bei««^. 3£r. Martin resided 
net aasened to him antil the rear 1 SSI. vfaen 

: :_- " . '. :' " ". -.- : i - :tTvl : : j " I- - 

to himself, OJ 



SPEECHES JEOM: THE DOCK. 105 

I Doherty, the only in the country 

at that time — MacManns, Meagher, OTO 

Mr. ( J'Brien and Mr. 
Martin sailed I _• i in the J- m Melbourne 

for Ceylon, at which port they parted. Mr. O'Brien turn- 
ing northward to Madras Mr. Martin came on via 
Aden. Cairo. Alexandria. Malta, and Marseilles, to Pa: is. 
where he arrived about the end of October. 1S54. In 
June. 1S56, the government made the pardon of Messrs. 
Martin, O'Brien, and O'Doherty, unconditional, and Mr. 
Martin then hastened to pay a visit to his family from 
whom he had been separated during eight years. After 
a stay of a few months he went back to Paris, intending 

side abroad during the remainder of his life, bee 
he could not voluntarily live under English rule in Ire- 
land. But the death of a near and dear member • 
family, in October. 1858, imposed on him duties which 
he could only discharge by residence in Lis own b 
and compelled him to terminate his exile. Living since 
then in his own land, he has I e to renew and con- 

tinue his protests against the domination of England in 

ad. In January. 1564. acting on the sug_ 
many well-known nationalise in Dublin 

a Repeal Association called " The National League. '' 
The peculiar condition of Irish politics at the time was 
unfavorable to any large extension of the society : but, 
notwithstanding this circumstance, the L a by its 

meetings and its publications, rendered g s rice to 
the cause of Irish freedom. Mr. Martin has seen 
many who once were loud and earnest in their profes- 
sions of patriotism lose heart and grow cold in the service 
of their country, but he does not weary F 1 good 
work. Patiently and zealously he still continues tn 
labor in the national cause : his mission is not ended 
yet : and with a constancy which lapse of years and 
change of scene have not affected, he still clings to the 
hope of Ireland's regeneration, and with v 1 p?n 

supports tl principles ol sm for whi 

The debt that Ire. - will not easily be 

acquitted; and if the bulk of his co-religi n - are no 



106 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

longer to be found within the national camp, we can 
almost forgive them their shortcomings, when we re- 
member that, within onr own generation, the Presby- 
terians of Ulster have given to Ireland two such men as 
John Martin and John Mitchel. 

Mr. Martin's name will reappear farther on, in another 
portion of this work ; for the occasion of which we have 
here treated was not the only one on which his patriotic 
words and actions brought upon him the attention of 
" the authorities," and subjected him to the troubles of 
a state prosecution. 




WILLIAM S O'BRIEN 
JOHN MITCHEL 



JOHN MARTIN 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 107 



W. S. O'BRIEN. 

Loudly across the dark-flowing tide of the Liffey 
rolled the cheers of welcome and rejoicing that burst 
from Conciliation Hall on that memorable day in January, 
'44, when William Smith O'Brien first stood beneath its 
roof, and presided over a meeting of Repealers. Many 
a time had the walls of that historic building given back 
the cheers of the thousands who gathered there to revel 
in the promises of the Liberator; many a time had they 
vibrated to the enthusiasm of the Irishmen who met 
there to celebrate the progress of the movement which 
was to give freedom and prosperity to Ireland ; but not 
even in those days of monster meetings and popular de- 
monstrations had a warmer glow of satisfaction flushed 
the face of O'Oonnell, than when the descendant of the 
Munster Kings took his place amongst the Dublin Re- 
pealers. "I find it impossible," exclaimed the great 
Tribune, "to give adequate expression to the delight 
with which I hail Mr. O'Brien's presence in the Associa- 
tion. He now occupies his natural position — the posi- 
tion which, centuries ago, was occupied by his ancestor, 
Brian Boru. Whatever may become of me, it is a con- 
solation to remember that Ireland will not be without 
a friend such as William Smith O'Brien, who, combining 
all the modern endowments of a highly-cultured mind, 
with intellectual gifts of the highest order, nervous 
eloquence, untiring energy, fervid love of country, and 
every other high qualification of a popular leader, is now 
where his friends would ever wish to see him — at the 
head of the Irish people." Six weeks before, a banquet 
had been given in Limerick to celebrate O'Brien's ad- 
hesion to the national cause, and on this occasion, too, 
O'Connell bore generous testimony to the value and im- 
portance of his accession. "His presence," said the 
Emancipator, in proposing Mr. O'Brien's health, "can- 



108 SPEECHES FKOM THE DOCK. 

not prevent me here from expressing, on behalf of the 
universal people of Ireland, their admiration and delight 
at his conversion to their cause. Receive the benefac- 
tor of Ireland, as such a benefactor should be received. 
It is certain that our country will never be deserted as 
long as she has William Smith O'Brien as one of her 
leaders." 

There was much to account for the tumult of rejoicing 
which hailed Smith O'Brien's entry within the ranks of 
the popular party. His lineage, his position, his in- 
fluence, his stainless character, his abilities, and his 
worth, combined to fit him for the place which O'Connell 
assigned him, and to rally round him the affection and 
allegiance of the Irish people. No monarch in the 
world could trace his descent from a longer line of illus- 
trious men j beside the roll of ancestry to which he 
could point, the oldest of European dynasties were things 
of a day. When the towering Pyramids that overlook 
the Nile were still new ; before the Homeric ballads had 
yet been chanted in the streets of an Eastern city ; be- 
fore the foundations of the Parthenon were laid on the 
Acropolis j before the wandering sons of iEneas found a 
home in the valley of the Tiber, the chieftains of his 
house enjoyed the conqueror's fame, and his ancestors 
swayed the sceptre of Erin. Nor was he unworthy of 
the name and the fame of the O'Briens of Kincora. 
Clear-sighted and discerning ; deeply endowed with calm 
sagacity and penetrating observance; pure-minded, elo- 
quent, talented and chivalrous, he comprised within his 
nature the truest elements of the patriot, the scholar, 
and the statesman. Unfaltering attachment to the prin- 
ciples of justice, unswerving obedience to the dictates of 
honor, unalterable loyalty to rectitude and duty, — these 
were the characteristics that distinguished him ; and 
these were the qualities that cast their redeeming light 
round his failings and his errors, and wrung from the 
bitterest of his foes the tribute due to suffering worth. 
If nobility of soul, if earnestness of heart and singleness 
of purpose, if unflinching and self-sacrificing patriotism, 
allied to zeal, courage, and ability, could have redeemed 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 109 

the Irish cause, it would not be left to us to mourn for 
it to-day ; and instead of the melancholy story we have 
now to relate, it might be given to us to chronicle the 
regeneration of the Irish nation, 

William Smith O'Brien was born at Dromoland, 
county Clare, on the 17th of October, 1803. He w T as 
the second son of Sir Edward O'Brien, and, on the death 
of his kinsman, the last Marquis of Thomond, his eldest 
brother became Baron of Inchiquin. He was educated 
at Harrow and Trinity College, Cambridge ; but his 
English education, however much it might have colored 
his views during boyhood, did not seriously affect his 
innate love of justice, or warp the patriotic feelings 
which were developed in his earliest years. The asso- 
ciations into which he was cast, the tone of the society 
in which he moved, the politics of his family, and the 
modern traditions of his house, combined to throw him 
into the ranks of the people's enemies; and that these 
influences were not altogether barren of results is 
proved by the fact that O'Brien entered Parliament in 1826 
as an anti-Repealer, and exerted himself to prevent the 
return of O'Connell at the memorable election for Clare. 
But O'Brien was no factious opponent of the national 
interests ; even while he acted thus, he had the welfare 
of his country sincerely at heart; he steered according 
to his lights, and when time and experience showed the 
falseness of his views, he did not hesitate to renounce 
them. To this period of his political career Mr. O'Brien 
often adverted in after life, with the frankness and 
candor that distinguished him. "When the proposal 
to seek for a Repeal of the Act of Union was first seri- 
ously entertained," said O'Brien, " I used all the influ- 
ence I possessed to discountenance the attempt. I did 
not consider that the circumstances and prospects of 
Ireland then justified the agitation of this question. 
Catholic Emancipation had been recently achieved, and 
I sincerely believed that from that epoch a new course 
of policy would be adopted towards Ireland. I per- 
suaded myself that thenceforth the statesmen of Great 
Britain would spare no effort to repair the evils pro- 



110 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

duced by centuries of misgovernment — that the Catholic 
and Protestant would be admitted to share on equal 
terms in all the advantages resulting from our con- 
stitutional form of government — that all traces of an 
ascendancy of race or creed would be effaced — that the 
institutions of Ireland would be gradually moulded so as 
to harmonize with the opinions of its inhabitants, and that, 
in regard of political rights, legislation for both kingdoms 
would be based upon the principle of perfect equality." 

Fourteen years had elapsed from the date of Catholic 
Emancipation, when O'Brien startled the aristocrats of 
Ireland by renouncing his allegiance to their party, and 
throwing himself heart and soul into the vanguard of 
the people. He told his reasons for the change, in bold, 
convincing words. He had seen that his expectations 
of justice were false and delusive. " The feelings of the 
Irish nation," he said, " have been exasperated by every 
species of irritation and insult; every proposal tending 
to develop the sources of our industry — to raise the 
character and improve the condition of our population, 
lias been discountenanced, distorted, or rejected. Ireland, 
instead of taking its place as an integral portion of the 
great empire which the valor of her sons has con- 
tributed to win, has been treated as a dependent tributary 
province j and at this moment, after forty-three years of 
nominal union, the affections of the tw r o nations are so 
entirely alienated from each other, that England trusts 
for the maintenance of their connection, not to the 
attachment of the Irish people, but to the bayonets 
which menace our bosoms, and the cannon which she 
has planted in all our strongholds." 

The prospects of the Repeal movement were not at 
their brightest when O'Brien entered Conciliation Hall. 
In England, and in Ireland too, the influence of O'Connell 
was on the wane, and with the dispersion of the multi- 
tudes that flocked on that Sunday morning in October, 
1S43, to listen to the Liberator on the plains of Clontarf, 
the peaceful policy which he advocated received its 
death-blow. Over O'Connell himself, and some of the 
most outspoken of his associates, a state prosecution 



SPEECHES FEOM THE DOCK. Ill 

was impending; and the arm of the government was 
already stretched out to crush the agitation whose 
object they detested, and whose strength they had 
begun to fear. The accession of O'Brien, however, the 
prestige of his name, and the influence of his example, 
was expected to do much towards reviving the drooping 
fortunes of the Association. Nor was the anticipation 
illusory. From the day on which O'Brien became a 
Repealer, down to the date of the secession, the strongest 
prop of Conciliation Hall was his presence and support ; 
he failed, indeed, to counteract the corrupt influences 
that gnawed at the vitals of the Association and ultimately 
destroyed it; but while he remained within its ranks, 
the redeeming influence of his genius, his patriotism, 
and his worth, preserved it from the extinction towards 
which it was hastening. 

At an early date the penetrating mind of O'Brien 
detected the existence of the evil which was afterwards to 
transform Conciliation Hall into a market for place- 
hunters. " I apprehend," said he, in a remarkable speech 
delivered in January, '46, " more danger to Repeal from 
the subtle influence of a Whig administration, than from 
the coercive measures of the Tories." And he was right. 
Day by day, the subtle influence which he dreaded did 
its blighting work ; and the success of those who sought 
the destruction of the Repeal Association through the 
machinery of bribes and places was already apparent, 
when, on the 27th of July, 1846, O'Brien, accompanied 
by Mitch'el, Meagher, Duffy, and others, arose in sorrow 
and indignation, and quitted the Conciliation Hall for- 
ever. 

Six months later the Irish Confederation held its first 
meeting in the Round Room of the Rotundo. Meagher, 
Mitchel, Doheny, O'Brien, O'Gorman, Martin, and M'Gee 
were amongst the speakers; and amidst the ringing 
cheers of the densely thronged meeting, the establish- 
ment was decreed of the Irish Confederation, for the 
purpose — as the resolution declared — " of protecting our 
national interests, and obtaining the Legislative Inde- 
pendence of Ireland by the force of opinion, by the com- 



112 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

l)i nation of all classes of Irishmen, and by the exercise 
of all the political, social, and moral influence within our 
reach." It will be seen that the means by which the 
Confederates proposed to gain their object, did not differ 
materially from the programme of the Repeal Associa- 
tion. But there was this distinction. Against place- 
hunting, and everything savoring of trafficking with the 
government, the Confederates resolutely set their faces ; 
and in the next place, while prescribing to themselves 
nothing but peaceful and legal means for the accomplish- 
ment of their object, they scouted the ridiculous doctrine, 
that " liberty was not worth the shedding of a single 
drop of blood/ 7 and that circumstances might arise under 
which resort to the arbitration of the sword would be 
righteous and justifiable. In time, however, the Con- 
federates took up a bolder and more dangerous position. 
As early as May, 1846, Lord John Russell spoke of the 
men who wrote in the pages of the Nation, and who 
subsequently became the leaders of the Confederation, 
u as a party looking to disturbance as its means, and 
having separation from England as its object." The 
description was false at the time, but, before two years 
had elapsed, its application became more accurate. A 
few men there were like Mitchel, who, from the birth of 
the Confederation, and perhaps before it, abandoned all 
expectation of redress through the medium of constitu- 
tional agitation j but it was not until the flames of revo- 
lution had wrapped the nations of the Continent in their 
fiery folds — until the barricades were up in every capital 
from Madrid to Vienna — and until the students 7 song of 
freedom was mingled with the paean of victory on many 
a field of death — that the hearts of the Irish Confederates 
caught the flame, and that revolution, and revolution 
alone, became the goal of their endeavors. When 
Mitchel withdrew from the Confederation in March, 
1848, the principles of constitutional action were still 
in the ascendancy ; when he rejoined it a month later, 
the cry, " To the registries," was superseded by fiery 
appeals summoning the people to arms. In the first 
week of April, the doctrine which John Mitchel had 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK'. 113 

long- been propounding, found expression in the leading 
columns of the Nation : — " Ireland's necessity," said 
Duffy, " demands the desperate remedy of revolution. 77 
A few weeks later, the same declaration was made 
in the very citadel of the enemy's power. It was 
O'Brien who spoke, and his audience was the British 
House of Commons. With Messrs. Meagher and Holly- 
wood, he had visited Paris to present an address of con- 
gratulation on behalf of the Irish people to the repub- 
lican government ; and on taking his seat in the House 
of Commons after his return, he found himself charged 
by the Ministers of the Crown with having gone to 
solicit armed intervention from France on behalf of the 
disaffected people of Ireland. O'Brien replied in a speech 
such as never was heard before or since within the walls 
of the House of Commons. In the midst of indescribable 
excitement and consternation, he proceeded to declare in 
calm, deliberate accents — " that if he was to be arraigned 
as a criminal, he would gladly endure the most ignominious 
death that could be inflicted on him rather than witness 
the sufferings and indignities he had seen inflicted by the 
British legislature on his countrymen. If it is a treason, 77 
he exclaimed, "to profess disloyalty to this House and 
to the government of Ireland, by the parliament of 
Great Britain — if that be treason, I avow it. Nay, 
more, I say it shall be the study of my life to overthrow 
the dominion of this parliament over Ireland." The 
yells and shouts with which these announcements were 
received shook the building in which he stood, and 
obliged him to remain silent for several moments after 
the delivery of each sentence; but when the uproar 
began to subside, the ringing tones of O'Brien rose again 
upon the air, and with the stoicism of a martyr, and the 
imperturbable courage of a hero, he proceeded. " Irish 
freedom," he said, " must be won by Irish courage. 
Every statesman in the civilized globe looks upon Ireland 
as you look upon Poland, and upon your connection as 
entirely analogous to that of Russia with Poland. I am 
here to night to tell you that, if you refuse our claims 
to legislative independence, you will have to encounter, 



114 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

daring the present year, the chance of a Republic in 
Ireland." 

O'Brien returned to Ireland, more endeared than ever 
to the hearts of his countrymen. And now the game 
was fairly afoot. Government and people viewed each 
other with steady and defiant glare, and girded up their 
loins for the struggle. On the one side, the Confederate 
clubs were organized with earnestness and vigor, and 
the spirit of the people awakened by a succession of 
stirring and glowing appeals. " What if we fail Y 1 asked 
the Nation; and it answered the question by declaring 
unsuccessful resistance under the circumstances prefer- 
able to a degrading submission. "What if we donH 
fail?" was its next inquiry, and the answer was w r ell 
calculated to arouse the patriots of Ireland to action. 
On the other hand, the authorities were not idle. Arms' 
Bills, Coercion Acts, and prosecutions followed each 
other in quick succession. Mitch el was arrested, con- 
victed, and sent to Bermuda. Duffy, Martin, Meagher, 
Doheny, O'Doherty, and M'Gee were arrested — all of 
whom, except Duffy and Martin, were shortly afterwards 
liberated. Duffy's trial was fixed for August, aud this 
was the time appointed by the Confederates for the out- 
break of the insurrection. There were some who advo- 
cated a more prompt mode of action. At a meeting of 
the Confederates held on July 19th, after the greater 
portion of the country had been proclaimed, it was 
warmly debated whether an immediate appeal to arms 
should not be counselled. O'Brien and Dillon advocated 
delay j the harvest had not yet been reaped in j the clubs 
were not sufficiently organized throughout the country, 
and the people might easily conceal their arms until the 
hour arrived for striking a decisive blow. Against this 
policy a few of the more impetuous members protested. 
"You will wait," exclaimed Joe Brennan, "until you get 
arms from heaven, and angels to pull the triggers." But 
his advice was disregarded j and the meeting broke up 
with the understanding that, with the first glance of the 
harvest sun, the fires of insurrection were to blaze upon 
the hill-tops of Ireland, and that meanwhile organization 



SPEECHES FKOM THE DOCK. 115 

and preparation were to engross the attention of the 
leaders. On Friday, July 21st, a war directory — con- 
sisting of Dillon, Reilly, 6'Gorman, Meagher, and Father 
Kenyon — was appointed ; and on the following morning 
O'Gorman started for Limerick, Doheny for Cashel, and 
O'Brien for Wexford, to prepare the people for the outbreak. 

It was war to the knife, and every one knew it. The 
forces of the government in Ireland were hourly increased 
in Dublin — every available and commanding position was 
occupied and fortified. " In the Bank of Ireland," says one 
who watched the progress of affairs with attentive gaze, 
" soldiers as well as cashiers were ready to settle up ac- 
counts. The young artists of the Royal Hibernian Academy 
and Royal Dublin Society had to quit their easels to make 
way for the garrison. The squares of old Trinity College 
resounded with the tramp of daily reviews j the Custom 
House at last received some occupation by being turned 
into a camp. The Linen Hall, the Rotundo, Holmes' 
Hotel, Alborough House, Dycer's Stables, in Stephen's- 
green — every institution, literary, artistic, and commer- 
cial, was confiscated to powder and pipe-clay. The 
barracks were provisioned as if for a siege j cavalry 
horses were shod with plates of steel, to prevent their 
being injured and thrown into disorder by broken bottles, 
iron spikes, or the like j and the infantry were occupied 
in familiarizing themselves with the art of fusillading 
footpaths and thoroughfares. Arms were taken from the 
people, and the houses of loyal families stocked with the 
implements of war." 

But the national leaders had calculated on the prepa- 
rations of the government; they knew the full measure 
of its military power, and were not afraid to face it ; but 
there was one blow which they had not foreseen, and 
which came on them with the shock of a thunderbolt. 
On the very morning that O'Brien left for Wexford, the 
news reached Dublin that a warrant had been issued for 
his arrest, and that the suspension of the Habeas Corpus 
Act was resolved on by the government. " It appears 
strangely unaccountable to me," was Meagher's reflec- 
tion in after years, "that, whilst a consideration of our 



116 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

position, our project, and our resources, was taking place ; 
whilst the stormy future on which we were entering 
formed the subject of the most anxious conjecture, and 
the danger of it fell like wintry shadows around us, — it 
seems strangely unaccountable to me that not an eye was 
turned to the facilities for the counteraction of our designs 
which the government had at their disposal j that not a 
word was uttered in anticipation of that bold, astounding 
measure — the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act — the 
announcement of which broke upon us so suddenly. 
The overlooking of it was a fatal inadvertence. Owing 
to it we were routed without a struggle, and were led 
into captivity without glory. We suffer not for a rebellion, 
but a blunder." 

The few of the Confederate leaders at large in Dublin 
at the time — Duffy, Martin, Williams, and O'Doherty 
were in Newgate — held a hurried council, and their plans 
were speedily formed. They were to join Smith O'Brien 
at once, and commence the insurrection in Kilkenny. 
On the night of Saturday, July 22d, M'Gee left for 
Scotland, to prepare the Irishmen of Glasgow for action ; 
and Meagher, Dillon, Reilly, MacManus, O'Donoghue, and 
Leyne started southwards, to place themselves in commu- 
nication with O'Brien. A week later, the last of the 
national papers was suppressed, and the Nation went 
down, sword in hand as a warrior might fall, with the 
words of defiance upon its lips, and a prayer for the good 
old cause floating upwards with its latest breath. 

O'Brien was in bed when Meagher and Dillon arrived 
at Balinkeele where he was stopping. The news of the 
suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act, and of the plans 
formed by the Confederates, were speedily communicated 
to him. O'Brien manifested no surprise at the intelli- 
gence. He quietly remarked that the time for action 
had arrived ; and that every Irishman was now justified 
in taking up arms against the government j dressed him- 
self and set out, without losing an hour, to inaugurate 
his hazardous enterprise at Enniscorthy. As the train 
drove along, the three friends occupied themselves with 
the important question where should they begin the out- 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 117 

break. Wexford was mentioned; but the number of 
Confederates enrolled there were few, and the people 
were totally unprepared for a sudden appeal to arms; 
New Ross and Waterford were ruled against, because of 
the effectual assistance the gunboats stationed in the 
river could render the garrison of those towns. Against 
Kilkenny none of those objections applied ; and the more 
they discussed the subject, the more convinced did they 
become that the most fitting cradle for the infant genius 
of Irish liberty was the ancient " city of the Confede- 
rates." u Perfectly safe from all war steamers, gunboats, 
and floating batteries ; standing on the frontiers of the 
three best fighting counties in Ireland — Waterford, Wex- 
ford, and Tipperary — the peasantry of which could find 
no difficulty in pouring to its relief; possessing from 
three to five thousand Confederates, most of whom were 
understood to be armed ; the most of the streets being 
narrow, and presenting on this account the greatest 
facilities for the erection of barricades ; the barracks 
lying outside the town, and the line of communication 
between the powerful portions of the latter and the 
former being intercepted by the old bridge over the 
Nore, which might be easily defended, or, at the most, 
very speedily demolished ; no place," says Meagher, 
" appeared to us to be better adapted for the first scene 
of the revolution." 

Towards Kilkenny they therefore took their way, 
haranguing the people in soul-stirring addresses as they 
proceeded. At Enniscorthy and at Graigue-na-mana 
their appeals were responded to with fervent enthusiasm ; 
they called on the people to form themselves into organ- 
ized bodies, and prepare to cooperate with the in- 
surgents who were shortly to unfurl their banner beneath 
the shadow of St. Canice's ; and the crowds who hung on 
their words vowed their determination to do so. But in 
Kilkenny, as in every town they visited, the patriot 
leaders found the greatest disinclination to take the 
initiative in the holy war. There, as elsewhere, the people 
felt no unwillingness to fight ; but they knew they were 
ill prepared for such an emergency, and fancied the first 



118 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

blow might be struck more effectively elsewhere. {l Who 
will draw the first blood ?" asked Finton Lalor in the 
last number of the Felon; and the question was a perti- 
nent one : there was a decided reluctance to draw it. 
It is far from our intention to cast the slightest reflection 
on the spirit or courage of the nationalists of 1848. We 
know that it was no selfish regard for their own safety 
made the leaders in Wexford, Kilkenny, and elsewhere, 
shrink from counselling an immediate outbreak in their 
localities ; the people, as the men who led them, 
looked forward to the rising of the harvest moon, and 
the cutting of their crops, as the precursors of the herald 
that was to summon them to arms. Their state of or- 
ganization was lamentably deficient; anticipating a month 
of quiet preparation, they had neglected to procure arms 
up to the date of O'Brien's arrival, and a few weeks 
would at least be required to complete their arrange- 
ments. In Kilkenny, for instance, not one in every eight 
of the clubmen possessed a musket, and even their supply 
of pikes was miserably small. But they were ready to 
do all that in them lay ; and when O'Brien, Dillon, and 
Meagher quitted Kilkenny on Monday, July 24th, they 
went in pursuance of an arrangement which was to bring 
them back to the city of the Nore before the lapse of a 
week. They were to drive into Tipperary, visit Oarrick, 
Clonmel, and Cashel, and summon the people of those 
towns to arms. Then, after the lapse of a few days, they 
were to return at the head of their followers to Kilkenny, 
call out the clubs, barricade the streets, and from the 
council chambers of the Corporation issue the first 
revolutionary edict to the country. They hoped that a 
week later the signal fires of insurrection would be 
blazing from every hill-top in Ireland ; and that the 
sunlight of freedom, for which so many generations of 
patriots had yearned, would soon flood glebe and town, 
the heather-clad mountains, and pleasant vales of Innisfail. 
Diis aliter visum/ the vision that glittered before their 
longing eyes melted away with the smoke of the first 
insurgent shot ; and instead of the laurel of the conqueror 
they were decked with the martyr's palm. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 119 

On arriving in Callan, the travellers were received with 
every demonstration of sympathy and welcome. The 
streets were blocked with masses of men that congre- 
gated to listen to their words. A large procession, headed 
by the temperance band, escorted them through the 
town, and a bonfire was lit in the centre of the main 
street. They told the people to provide themselves at 
once with arms, as in a few days they would be asked to 
march with the insurgent forces on Kilkenny — an an- 
nouncement that was received with deafening applause. 
After a few hours' delay the three compatriots quitted 
Callan, and pursued their road to Carrick-on-Suir, where 
they arrived on the same evening and received a most 
enthusiastic reception. They addressed the excited mul- 
titude in impassioned words, promised to lead them to 
battle before many days, and called on them to practise 
patience and prudence in the interval. On the following 
da} 7 they quitted Carrick, and took their way to Mullina- 
hone, when the people gathered in thousands to receive 
them. The number of men who assembled to meet them 
was between three and four thousand, of whom about 
three hundred were armed with guns, pistols, old swords, 
and pitchforks. The gathering was reviewed and drilled 
by the Confederates ; and O'Brien, who wore a plaid 
scarf across his shoulders, and carried a pistol in his 
breast pocket, told them that Ireland would have a 
government of her own before many weeks. 

On the evening of Tuesday, July 25th, the Confederate 
leaders arrived in Mullinahone, where they slept. On 
the following morning they addressed the people, who 
flocked into the town on hearing of their arrival. And 
here it was that O'Brien himself dealt the death-blow of 
the movement. The peasantry, who came from their 
distant homes to meet him, were left the whole day long 
Without food or shelter. O'Brien himself gave what 
money he had to buy them bread; but he told them in 
future they should provide for themselves, as he could 
allow no one's property to be interfered with. Hungry 
and exhausted, the men who listened to him returned 
at night to their homes; they were sensible enough to 



120 SPEECHES EROM THE DOCK. 

perceive that insurrection within the lines laid down by 
their leaders was impossible ; the news that they were 
expected to fight on empty stomachs was spread amongst 
the people, and from that day forward the number of 
O'Brien's followers dwindled away. 

On July 26th, O'Brien and his party first visited the 
village of Ballingarry, where he was joined by MacManus, 
Doheny, Devin Reilly, and other prominent members of 
the Confederation. They took a survey of the village 
and its neighborhood ; addressed the crowd from the 
piers of the chapel gate, and slept in the house of one of 
the village shopkeepers. Next day they returned to 
Mullinahone and thence to Killenaule, where they were 
received with every demonstration of welcome and re- 
joicing. Bouquets fell in showers upon O'Brien ; ad- 
dresses were read, and the fullest and warmest cooperation 
was freely promised by the excited crowds that congre- 
gated in the streets. 

The exact position which the Confederates had now as- 
sumed towards the Crown and government is deserving 
of a moment's attention. Up to the last they carefully 
distinguished between resisting the acts of the govern- 
ment and disputing the sovereignty of the Queen. They 
regarded the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act as 
unconstitutional in itself; and when O'Brien told her 
Majesty's Ministers in the House of Commons that it was 
they who were the traitors to the country, the Queen, and 
the Constitution, he did but express the opinions that un- 
derlay the whole policy of the Confederation. Even the 
passing of the Habeas Corpus Suspension Act w T as not 
quite sufficient to exhaust their patience ; in order to 
fill the measure of the government's transgressions and 
justify a resort to arms against them, it was necessary, 
in the opinion of O'Brien and his associates, that the 
authorities should attempt to carry into operation the 
iniquitous law they had passed ; the arrest of O'Brien 
was to be the signal for insurrection ; meanwhile, they were 
satisfied with organizing their forces for the fray, and pre- 
paring for offering an effective resistance to the execution 
of the warrant, whenever it should make its appearance. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 121 

It was therefore that, when at Kilenaule, a small party of 
dragoons rode up to the town, they were suffered to pro- 
ceed unmolested ; at the first notice of their coming, the 
people rushed to the streets and hastily threw up a barri- 
cade to intercept them. Dillon commanded at the barri- 
cade j beside him stood Patrick O'Donoghue, and a young 
man whose career as a revolutionist was destined to ex- 
tend far beyond the scenes in which he was then sharing • 
and whose name was one day to become first a terror to the 
government of England, and afterwards a by-word and a, 
reproach amongst his countrymen. O'Donoghue and Ste- 
phens were both armed, and when the officer commanding 
the dragoons rode up to the barricade and demanded a 
passage, Stephens promptly covered him with his rifle, 
when his attention was arrested by a command from 
Dillon to ground his arms. The officer pledged his 
honor that he did not come with the object of arresting 
O'Brien ; the barricade was taken down, and the dragoons 
passed scatheless through the town. Another opportu- 
nity had been lost, and the hearts of the most resolute of 
O'Brien's colleagues sunk lower than ever. 

On Friday, O'Brien and his followers returned to Bal- 
lingarry, where they held a council on the prospects of the 
movement. It was clear that the case was a desperate 
one, that the chance of successful resistance was inevi- 
tably lost, and that nothing now awaited th'em — should 
they persist in their enterprise — but ruin and death. 
Only a couple of hundred men, wretchedly armed or not 
armed at all, adhered to their failing fortunes ; and 
throughout the rest of the country the disaffected 
gave no sign. But O'Brien was immovable ; he would 
do his duty by his country, let the country answer for its 
duty towards him. 

The collision came at last. On Saturday morning, 
July 29th, the constabulary of Thurles, Kilkenny, Oashel, 
and Callan, received orders to march on the village of 
Ballingarry, for the purpose of arresting Smith O'Brien. 
On the previous day the government had issued a procla- 
mation, declaring him guilty of treasonable practices, 
by appearing in arms against the Queen ; and offering a 



122 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

reward of c£500 for his apprehension ; on the same day, 
<£300 was offered for the arrest of Meagher, Dillon, and 
Doheny. Fired with the ambition of capturing the rebel 
party with his own forces, and winning for himself a 
deathless fame, Sub-inspector Trant marched out in hot 
haste from Callan, at the head of forty-six policemen, 
and directed his steps towards Ballingarry, where it 
was known to him that O'Brien was still stopping. Be- 
tween twelve and one o'clock they arrived at Farrenrory, 
within three miles of the village of Ballingarry. On ar- 
riving at this point, the police found that effective measures 
had been adopted to dispute their further progress. 
Across the road before them a barricade had been thrown 
up, and behind it was arrayed a body of men numbering 
from three to four hundred. Fearing to face the insur- 
gent forces, the police turned off to the right, and rushed 
towards a slate house which they saw in the distance. 
The people saw the object of the movement, and at once 
gave chase ; but the police had the advantage of a long start, 
and they succeeded in reaching the house and barring the 
door by which they entered, before their pursuers came up. 
The die was cast, and the struggle, so long watched 
for and sighed for, had come at last. But it came not 
as it had been depicted by the tribune and poet; the 
vision that had flashed its radiancy before the eager eyes 
that hungered for the redemption of Ireland, differed 
sadly from the miserable reality. The serried ranks of 
glittering steel, the files of gallant pikemen, the armed 
columns of stalwart peasants, pouring through gap and 
river course, the glimmering camp fires quivering through 
the mist, the waving banners, and the flashing swords — 
where were they now? Where were the thousands of 
matchless mould, the men of strength and spirit, whose 
footfalls woke the echoes one month before in a hun- 
dred towns as they marched to the meetings at which 
they swore to strike down the oppressor? Only a few 
months had passed since two thousand determined men 
had passed in review before O'Brien at Cork ; scarcely 
six weeks since, similar sights were witnessed from the 
city of the Shannon to the winding reaches of the Boyne. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 123 

Everywhere there were strength and numbers, and reso- 
lution : where were they now in the supreme hour of the 
country's agony ? A thousand times it had been sworn by 
tens of thousands of Irishmen, that the tocsin of battle 
would find them clustered round the good old flag to con- 
quer or die beneath its shadow. And now, the hour had 
come, the flag of insurrection so often invoked was raised ; 
but the patriot that raised it was left defenceless ; lie at 
least kept his word, but the promises on which he relied 
had broken like dissolving ice beneath his feet. 

Around O'Brien there clustered, on that miserable noon- 
tide, about four hundred human beings — a weak, hungry 
and emaciated-looking throng for the most part; their 
half-naked forms, browned by the sun, and hardened 
by the winter winds — a motley gathering; amongst 
whom there were scores of fasting men, and hundreds 
through whose wretched dwellings the wind and rain 
found free ingress. They were poor, they were weak, 
they were ignorant, they were unarmed ! but there was 
one* thing at least which they possessed — that quality 
which Heaven bestowed on the Irish race, to gild and 
redeem their misfortunes. Of courage and resolution 
they had plenty : they understood little of the causes which 
led to the outbreak in which they participated ; of Smith 
O'Brien or his associates, few of them had heard up to 
their appearance at Balling arry ; but they knew that it 
was against the forces of the British government and on 
behalf of Ireland's independence they were called on to 
fight, and in this cause they were ready to shed their 
blood. Such was the party whom O'Brien gazed upon, 
with a troubled mind, on that eventful day. Even the 
attached companions who had so far attended him were 
no longer by his side ; MacManus, O'Donoghue, and Ste- 
phens were still there ; but Meagher, Dillon, Doheny and 
O'Gorman had left at break of day to raise the standard 
of insurrection in other quarters. Of the men around him 
not more than twenty possessed firearms, about twice that 
number were armed with pikes and pitchforks ; the 
remainder had but their naked hands and the stones they 
could gather by the wayside. 



124 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

On the other side were forty-seven disciplined men 
splendidly armed, and ensconced, moreover, in a building- 
possessing for the purpose of the hour the strength of a 
fortress. It stood on the brow of a hill overlooking the 
country in every direction ; it consisted of two stories 
with four windows in each, in front and rear j each gable 
being also pierced by a pair of windows. There were six 
little children in the house when the police entered it. 
Their mother, the Widow M'Cormick, arrived on the spot 
immediately after the police had taken possession of her 
domicile, and addressing O'Brien, she besought him to save 
her little ones from danger. On O'Brien's chivalrous 
nature the appeal was not wasted. Heedless of the danger 
to which he exposed himself, he walked up to the window 
of the house. Standing at the open window with his 
breast within an inch of the bayonets of the two police- 
men who were on the inside, he called on them to give up 
their arms, and avoid a useless effusion of blood. "We 
are all Irishmen, boys,' 7 he said ; " I only want your arms 
and I'll protect your lives." The reply was a murderous 
volley poured on the gathering outside. Some half- 
drunken person in the crowd, it appears, had flung a stone 
at one of the windows, and the police needed no further 
provocation. The fire was returned by the insurgents, 
and O'Brien, seeing that his efforts to preserve peace were 
futile, quitted the window and rejoined his companions. 
For nearly two hours the firing continued j the police, 
well sheltered from the possibility of injury, fired in all 
about 220 rounds, killing two men and wounding a num- 
ber of others, amongst them James Stephens, who was 
shot in the thigh. Long before an equal number of shots 
were fired from without, the ammunition of the insur- 
gents was exhausted, and they could only reply to the 
thick-falling bullets with the stones which the women pre- 
sent gathered for them in their aprons. It was clear 
that the house could not be stormed in this way; and 
MacManus, with half-a-dozen resolute companions, 
rolled a cartload of hay up to the kitchen door with the 
intention of setting fire to it, and burning down the 
house. But O'Brien would not permit it; there were 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 125 

children in the house, and their innocent lives should 
not be sacrificed. In vain did MacManus entreat him for 
permission to fire his' pistol into the hay and kindle the 
ready flames, O'Brien was inexorable j and the first and 
last battle of the insurrection was lost and won. The 
Rev. Mr. Fitzgerald, the priest of the parish, and his 
curate, Father Maher, now appeared on the spot, and 
naturally used their influence to terminate the hopeless 
struggle. A large force of constabulary from Cashel soon 
after were seen approaching, and the people, who now 
saw the absolute uselessness of further resistance, broke 
away to the hills. The game was up j the banner of 
Irish independence had again sunk to the dust • and 
O'Brien, who had acted throughout with preternatural cool- 
ness, and whose face gave no more indications of emotion 
than if it had been chiselled in marble, turned from the 
scene with a broken heart. For a length of time he re- 
sisted the entreaties of his friends and refused to leave 
the spot ; at last their solicitations prevailed, and 
mounting a horse taken from one of the police, he rode 
away. 

From that fatal day down to the night of Saturday, 
August 5th, the police sought vainly for O'Brien. He 
slept in the peasant's hut on the mountain and he shared 
his scanty fare ; a price which might well dazzle the senses 
of his poverty-stricken entertainers was on his head, 
and they knew it ; over hillside and valley swarmed the 
host of spies, detectives, and policemen placed on his 
track j but no hand was raised to clutch the tempting 
bribe, no voice whispered the information for which the 
government preferred its gold. Amongst those, too, who 
took part in the affray at Ballingarry, and who sub- 
sequently were cast in shoals into prison, there were 
many from whom the government sought to extract in- 
formation. Bribes and promises of pardon were held up 
before their eyes, menaces were freely resorted to, but 
amongst them the government sought vainly for an in- 
former. Many of them died in captivity or in exile ; their 
homes were broken up ; their wives and children left 
destitute and friendless; but the words that would give 



126 SPEECHES FEOM THE DOCK. 

them liberty and wealth, and terminate the sufferings of 
themselves and their families, were never spoken. Had 
O'Brien chosen to escape from the country like Doheny, 
O'Gorman, Dillon and others of his friends, it is probable 
he might have done so. He resolved, however, on facing 
the consequence of his acts, and sharing the fate of the 
Irish rebel to the bitter end. 

The raiu fell cold and drearily in the deserted streets 
of Thurles on the night which saw the arrest of William 
Smith O'Brien. Away over the shadowy mountains in 
the distance, the swimming vapors cast their shroud, 
wrapping in their chilling folds the homes of the hunger- 
stricken, prostrate race that sat by their tireless hearths. 
The autumn gale swept over the desolate land as if moan- 
ing at the ruin and misery that cursed it, and wailing 
the dirge of the high hopes and ardent purposes that a 
few short weeks before had gladdened the hearts of its 
people. Calmly and deliberately with folded arms 
O'Brien walked through the streets, and entered the 
Thurles railway station. He wore a black hat, a blue 
boat cloak, in which he was rather tightly muffled, and 
a light plaid trowsers ; in his hand he carried a large 
black stick. He walked to the ticket office and paid his 
fare to Limerick ; then wrapping himself up in his cloak 
and folding his arms, again he walked slowly along the 
platform awaiting the arrival of the train. He had re- 
solved on surrendering himself for trial, but he wished to 
pay one last visit to his home and family. That gratifi- 
cation, however, was denied him, he was recognized by an 
Englisman named Hulme, a railway guard ; in an in- 
stant he was surrounded by police and detectives, and 
torn off with brutal violence to gaol. That same night 
an express train flashed northwards through the fog and 
mist, bearing O'Brien a prisoner to Dublin. In the car- 
riage in which he was placed sat General M'Donald, a 
Sub-inspector of constabulary and four policemen. On 
entering the train a pistol was placed at O'Brien's head, 
and he was commanded not to speak on peril of his life. 
Disregarding the injunction, he turned to M'Donald and 
asked him why he was so scandalously used. The 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 127 

general " had a duty to perform/' and " his orders should 
be obeyed." " I have played the game and lost," said 
O'Brien, u and I am ready to pay the penalty of having 
failed ; I hope that those who accompanied me may be 
dealt with in clemency ; I care not what happens to 
myself." 

On Thursday, September 28th, he was arraigned be- 
fore a Special Commission, on a charge of high treason, 
at Clonmel. The trial lasted ten days, and ended in a ver- 
dict of guilty. It excited unprecedented interest through- 
out the country, and there are many of its incidents 
deserving of permanent record. Among the witnesses 
brought forward by the crown, was John O'Donnell, a 
comfortable farmer, who resided near Ballingarry. " I 
won't be sworn," he said on coming on the table, " or 
give evidence under any circumstances. You may bring 
me out and put a file of soldiers before me, and plant 
twenty bullets in my breast, but while I have a heart 
there, I will never swear for you." He expiated his pa- 
triotism by a long imprisonment. Nor was this a soli- 
tary instance of heroism ; Richard Shea, a fine-looking 
young peasant, on being handed the book, declared that 
" he would not swear against such a gentleman," and he, 
too, was carried off to pass years within a British dungeon. 
But their sacrifices were unavailing ; of evidence there 
was plenty against O'Brien ; the police were overflowing 
with it, and the eloquence and ability of Whiteside were 
powerless to save him from a verdict of guilty. 

The papers of the time are full of remarks on the 
firmness and self-possession displayed by O'Brien through- 
out the trial. Even the announcement of the verdict 
failed to disturb his composure, and when the usual ques- 
tion was asked, he replied with calmness and deliberation : 

" My lords, it is not my intention to enter into any vindication 
of my conduct, however much I might have desired to avail myself 
of this opportunity of so doing. I am perfectly satisfied with the 
consciousness that I have performed my duty to my country — that 
I have done only that which, in my opinion, it was the duty of 
every Irishman to have done; and I am now prepared to abide the 
consequences of having performed my duty to my native land. 
Proceed with your sentence." 



128 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

A deep murmur, followed by a burst of applause, filled 
the court as the noble patriot ceased speaking. Stepping 
back a pace, and folding his arms on his breast, O'Brien 
looked fixedly at the judge, and awaited the sentence of 
the court. Amidst the deepest sensation, Chief Justice 
Blackburne proceeded to discharge his task. O'Brien 
was sentenced to be hanged, beheaded, and quartered. 
''During the delivery of the sentence/' says a writer 
of the period, " the most profound agitation pervaded 
the court ; as it drew towards the close, the excitement 
became more marked and intense; but when the last 
barbarous provisions of the sentence were pronounced, 
the public feeling could only manifest itself by stifled 
sobs and broken murmurs of sympathy for the heroic 
man, who, alone, was unmoved during this awful scene, 
whose lips alone did not quiver, whose hand alone did 
not tremble, but whose heart beat with the calm pulsa- 
tion of conscious guiltlessness and unsullied honor." 

Nine months later (July 29th, 1849), the brig Swift 
sailed from Kingstown harbor, bearing O'Brien, Meagher, 
MacManus, and O'Donoghue into exile. In the month of 
November the vessel reached Hobart Town, where 
" tickets of leave " were offered to those gentlemen on 
condition of their residing each one within a certain 
district marked out for him, and giving their parole to 
make no attempt at escape while in possession of the 
ticket. Messrs. Meagher, MacManus, and O'Donoghue 
accepted these terms ; Mr. O'Brien refused them, and 
was consequently sent to an island off the coast called 
Maria Island, where he was placed in strict custody and 
treated with great severity. The news of the indignities 
and the sufferings to which he was subjected, outraged 
the feelings of the Irish people in the neighboring 
country, and ere long his sympathizers in Tasmania laid 
a plan for his escape. They hired a vessel to lie off the 
coast on a particular day, and send a boat on shore to 
take off the prisoner, who had been informed of the plot, 
and had arranged to be in waiting for his deliverers. 
This design would unquestionably have succeeded but for 
the treachery of the captain of the ship, who, before 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 129 

sailing to the appointed spot, had given the government 
information of the intended escape and the manner of it. 
What occurred on the arrival of the vessel we shall relate 
in the words of Mr. Mitchel, who tells the story irr his 
"Jail Journal'' as he heard it from Mr. O'Brien himself: 
" At last as he wandered on the shore and had almost 
given up all hope of the schooner, the schooner hove in 
sight. To give time for her approach, he walked into 
the woods- for a space, that he might not alarm his 
guardian constable by his attention to her movements. 
Again he sauntered down towards the point with, 
apparent carelessness, but with a beating heart. San 
Francisco was to be his first destination ; and beyond 
that golden gate lay the great world, and home, and 
children, and an honorable life. The boat was coming, 
manned by three men ; and he stepped proudly and 
resolutely to meet them on the shore. To be sure there 
was, somewhere behind him, one miserable constable 
with his miserable musket, but he had no doubt of being 
able to dispose of that difficulty with the aid of his 
allies, the boatmen. The boat could not get quite close 
to the beach, because they had to run her into a kind of 
cove where the water was calm and unencumbered with 
large tangled weeds. O'Brien, when he reached the 
beach, plunged into the water to prevent delay, and 
struggled through the thick, matted seaweed to the boat. 
The water was deeper than he expected, and when he 
came to the boat he needed the aid of the boatmen to 
climb over the gunwale. Instead of giving him this aid 
the rascals allowed him to flounder there, and kept look- 
ing to the shore, where the constable had by this time 
appeared with his musket. The moment he showed 
himself, the three boatmen cried out together, " We 
surrender !" and invited him on board ; where he in- 
stantly took up a hatchet — no doubt provided by the 
ship for that purpose — and stove the boat. O'Brien saw 
he was betrayed, and on being ordered to move along 
with the constable and boatmen towards the station, he 
refused to stir — hoping, in fact, by his resistance, to 
provoke the constable to shoot him. How r ever, the three 



130 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

boatmen seized on Lira, and lifted him up from the 
ground, and earned him wherever the constable ordered. 
His custody was thereafter made more rigorous, and he 
was shortly after removed from Maria Island to Port 
Arthur Station.'' 

To this brief narrative the following "note" is 
appended in the work from which we have just quoted : — 

u Ellis, the captain of the schooner, was some months 
after seized at San Francisco by Mr. MacManus and 
others, brought by night out of his ship, and carried into 
the country to undergo his trial under a tree, whereupon, 
if found guilty, he was destined to swing. MacManus set 
out his indictment ; and it proves how much Judge 
Ly neb's method of administering justice in those early 
days of California excelled anything we know of law or 
justice in Ireland — that Ellis, for want of sufficient and 
satisfactory evidence then producible, was acquitted by 
that midnight court, under that convenient and tempting 
tree." 

Port Arthur station, to which Mr. O'Brien was re- 
moved from Maria Island, was a place of punishment for 
convicts, who, while serving out their terms of trans- 
portation, had committed fresh offences against the law. 
After a detention there for some time, Mr. O'Brien, 
whose health was rapidly sinking under the rigors of 
his confinement, was induced, by letters from his poli- 
tical friends, to accept the ticket- of-leave, and avail of 
the comparative liberty which they enjoyed. The govern- 
ment, on his acceptance of their terms, placed him first 
in the district of New Norfolk, and subsequently in that 
of Avoca, where he remained until the conditional par- 
don, already mentioned in these columns, w T as granted 
in 1854. He then left Australia, went on to Madras, 
where he made a stay of about a month ; from thence he 
went to Paris and on to Brussels, where he was joined 
by his wife and children. He next made a tour in 
Greece, and was in that country when the unconditional 
pardon, which permitted him to return to his native 
land, was granted in the month of May, 1S56, imme- 
diately after the close of the Crimean War. On Tuesday, 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 131 

July 8th, 1856, Mr. O'Brien stood once more upon his 
native soil, after an exile of eight years. The news of 
his arrival was joyfully received by his fellow-country- 
men, who welcomed him with every mark of respect and 
affection whenever he appeared among them. Thence- 
forward Mr. O'Brien took no active part in Irish politics, 
but he frequently offered advice and suggestions to his 
countrymen through the medium of letters and addresses 
in the Nation. In February, 1859, Mr. O'Brien made a 
voyage to America, and during the ensuing months 
travelled through a great portion of that country. After 
his return to Ireland he delivered, in November, 1859, 
an interesting series of lectures on his tour, in the 
Mechanics' Institute, Dublin. On July 1st, 1863, he 
lectured in the Rotundo, Dublin, for the benefit of a 
fund which was being raised for the relief of the wounded 
and destitute patriots of the Polish insurrection. In the 
early part of the year, 1S64, the health of the illustrious 
patriot began rapidly to fail, and he was taken by his 
friends to England for a change of air. But the weight 
of many years of care and suffering was on him, and its 
effects could not be undone. On the 16th of June, 1864, 
at Bangor, the noble- hearted patriot breathed his last. 
His family had the honored remains brought to Ireland 
for interment in the old burial-ground of his fathers. 
On Thursday morning, at an early hour, they reached 
Dublin on board the Cambria steamer. It was known 
that his family wished that no public demonstration 
should be made at his funeral, but the feelings of the 
citizens who desired to pay a tribute of respect to his 
memory could not be repressed. In the grey hours of 
the morning the people in thousands assembled on the 
quays to await the arrival of the remains, and two 
steamers, which had been chartered for the purpose, pro- 
ceeded, with large numbers on board, some distance into 
the harbor to meet the approaching vessel. All along 
the way, from the North Wall to the Kingsbridge rail- 
way station, the hearse bearing the patriot's body was 
accompanied by the procession of mourners, numbering 
about 15,000 men. At various stages of, the journey 



132 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

similar scenes were witnessed. But the end was soon 
reached. In the churchyard of Rathronan, county Lim- 
erick, they laid him to rest. The green grass grows freshly 
around the vault in which he sleeps, and has long filled 
up the footprints of the multitude who broke the silence 
of that lonely spot by their sobs on the day he was 
buried ; the winter gales will come and go, and, touched 
by the breath of spring, the wild flowers will blossom 
tliere through succeeding years, but never again will a 
purer spirit, a nobler mind, a patriot more brave, more 
chivalrous, or more true, give his heart to the cause of 
Ireland, than the silvered-haired, care-burdened gentle- 
man whom they bore from Cahirmoyle to his grave on 
the 24th day of" June, 1864. 



SPEECHES FROM: THE DOCK. 133 



THOMAS FRANCIS MEAGHER. 

Early in 1S4G, when the Kepeal Association was still 
powerful and great, and ere yet the country had ceased 
to throb to the magic of O'Connell's voice, there rose 
one day, from amongst those who crowded the platform 
of Conciliation Hall, a well-featured, gracefully-built, 
dark-eyed young gentleman, towards whom the faces of 
the assembly turned in curiosity, and whose accents, when 
he spoke, were those of a stranger to the audience. Few 
of them had heard of his name ; not one of them — if 
the chairman, William Smith O'Brien, be excepted — 
had the faintest idea of the talents and capacities he 
possessed, and which were one day to enrapture and 
electrify his countrymen. He addressed the meeting on 
one of the passing topics of the day ; something in his 
manner savoring of affectation, something in the 
semi-Saxon lisp that struggled through his low-toned utter- 
ances, something in the total lack of suitable gesture, 
gave his listeners at the outset an unfavorable impres- 
sion of the young speaker. He was boyish, and, some 
did not scruple to hint, conceited ; he had too much of 
the fine gentleman about his appearance, and too little 
of the native brogue and stirring declamation to which 
his listeners had been accustomed. The new man is a 
failure, was the first idea that suggested itself to the 
audience — but he was not ; and when he resumed his 
seat, he had conquered all prejudices, and wrung the 
cheers of admiration from the meeting. Warming with 
his subject, and casting off the restraints that hampered 
his utterances at first, he poured forth a strain of genuine 
eloquence, vivified by the happiest allusions, and en- 
riched by imagery and quotations as beautiful as they 
were appropriate, which startled the meeting from its 



124 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK 

indifference, and won for the young speaker the enthu- 
siastic applause of his audience. O'Brien complimented 
him warmly on his success, and thus it was that the 
orator of young Ireland made his debut on the political 
platform. 

Meagher was not quite twenty-three years of age when 
his voice was first heard in Conciliation Hall. He was 
born in Waterford of an old Catholic family, which, 
through good and ill, had adhered to the national faith 
and the national cause; his school-boy days were passed 
partly at Clongowes-wood College, and partly under the 
superintendence of the Jesuit Fathers at Stoneyhurst in 
Lancashire. His early years gave few indications of the 
splendid wealth of genius that slumbered within his 
breast. He took little interest in his classical or mathe- 
matical studies; bat he was an ardent student of Eng- 
lish literature, and his compositions in poetry and prose 
invariably carried away the prize. He found his father 
fiillng the civic chair in Waterford, when he returned 
from Stoneyhurst to his native city. O'Connell was in 
the plenitude of his power; and from end to end of the 
land, the people were shaken by mighty thoughts and 
grand aspirations: with buoyant and unfaltering tread 
the nation seemed advancing towards the goal of free- 
dom, and the manhood of Ireland seemed kindling at 
the flame which glowed before the altar of Liberty. Into 
the national movement young Meagher threw himself 
with the warmth and enthusiasm of his nature. At the 
early age of twenty we find him presiding over a meet- 
ing of Repealers in his native city, called to express 
sympathy with the state prisoners of '43 and he thence- 
forward became a diligent student of contemporary poli- 
tics. He became known as an occasional speaker at 
local gatherings; but it was not until the event we have 
described that Meagher was fairly launched in the 
troubled tide of politics, and that his lot was cast for 
good or evil with the leaders of the national party. 

Up to the date of secession Meagher was a frequent 
speaker at the meetings of the Repeal Association. Day 
by day his reputation as a speaker extended, until at 



SPEECHES PROM THE DOCK. 135 

length he grew to be recognized as the orator of the 
party, and the knowledge that he was expected to speak 
was sufficient to crowd Conciliation Hall to overflowing. 
When the influence of the Nation party began to be 
felt, and signs of disunion appeared on the horizon, 
O'Connell made a vigorous effort to detach Meagher 
from the side of Mitchel, Daffy, and O'Brien. " These 
Young Irelanders," he said, " will lead you into danger." 
" They may lead me into danger/ 7 replied Meagher, 
" but certainly not into dishonor." 

Against the trafficking with the Whigs, which subse- 
quently laid the Repeal Association in the dust, and 
shipwrecked a movement which might have ended in the 
disenthralment of Ireland, Meagher protested in words 
of prophetic warning. "The suspicion is abroad," he 
said, " that the national cause will be sacrificed to Whig 
supremacy, and that the people, who are now striding 
on to freedom, will be purchased back into factious vas- 
salage. The Whigs calculate upon your apostasy, the 
Conservatives predict it." The place-beggars, who 
looked to the Whigs for position and wealth, murmured 
as they heard their treachery laid bare and their designs 
dissected in the impassioned appeals by which Meagher 
sought to recall them to the path of patriotism and duty. 
It was necessary for their ends that the bold denouncer 
of corruption, and the men who acted with him, should 
be driven from the Association ; and to effect that object, 
O'Connell was hounded on to the step which ended in 
the secession. The " peace resolutions" were introduced, 
and Meagher found himself called on to subscribe to a 
doctrine which his soul abhorred — that the use of arms 
was at all times unjustifiable and immoral. The Lord 
Mayor was in the chair, and O'Brien, John O'Connell, 
Denis Reilly, Tom Steele, and John Mitchel had spoken, 
when Meagher rose to address the assembly. The speech 
he delivered on that occasion, for brilliancy and lyrical 
grandeur has never been surpassed. It won for him a 
reception far transcending that of Shiel or O'Connell as 
an orator; and it gave to him the title by which he was 
afterwards so often referred to — " Meagher of the sword." 



136 SPEECHES EKOM THE DOCK. 

He commenced by expressing his sense of gratitude, and 
his attachment to O'Connell. He said : — 

" My lord, T am not ungrateful to the man who struck the fetters off 
my limbs while I was yet a child, and by whose influence my father, 
the first Catholic that did so for two hundred years, sat for the last 
two years in the civic chair of my native city. But, my lord," he 
continued, "the same God who gave to that great man the power 
to strike down one odious ascendancy in this country, and who 
enabled him to institute in this land the laws of religious equality — 
the same God gave to me a mind that is my own, a mind that has 
not been mortgaged to the opinion of any man or set of men; a 
mind that I was to use and not surrender." 

Having thus vindicated freedom of opinion, the speaker 
went on to disclaim for himself the opinion that the As- 
sociation ought to deviate from the strict path of legality. 
But he refused to accept the resolutions ; because, he said, 
" there are times when arms alone will suffice, and when 
political ameliorations call for ' a drop of blood,? and for 
many thousand drops of blood." Then breaking forth 
into a strain of impassioned and dazzling oratory, he pro- 
ceeded : — 

" The soldier is proof against an argument — but he is not proof 
against a bullet. The man that will listen to reason — let him be 
reasoned with. But it is the weaponed arm of the patriot that can 
alone prevail against battalioned despotism. 

'' Then, my lord, I do not condemn the use of arms as immoral, 
nor do I conceive it profane to say that the King of Heaven — the 
Lord of Hosts ! the God of Battles !— bestows his benediction upon 
those who unsheathe the sword in the hour of a nation's peril. From 
that evening on which, in the valley of Bethulia, he nerved the 
arm of the Jewish girl to smite the drunken tyrant in his tent, 
down to this our day, in which he has blessed the insurgent 
chivalry of the Belgian priest, His Almighty hand hath ever been 
stretched forth from His throne of light to consecrate the flag of 
freedom — to bless the patriot's sword ! Be it in the defence or be 
it in the assertion of a people's liberty, I hail the sword as a sacred 
weapon ; and if, my lord, it had sometimes taken the shape of the 
serpent, and reddened the shroud of the oppressor with too deep 
a dye, like the anointed rod of the High Priest, it has at other times, 
and as often, blossomed into celestial flowers to deck the freeman's 
brow. 

" Abhor the sword — stigmatize the sword? No, my lord, for in 
the passes of the Tyrol it cut to pieces the banner of the Bavarian, 
and, through those cragged passes, struck a path to fame for the 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 137 

peasant insurrectionists of Inspruck ! Abhor the sword — stigma- 
tize the sword? No, my lord, for at its blow a giant nation started 
from the waters of the Atlantic, and by its redeeming magic, and. 
in the quivering of its crimsoned light, the crippled colony sprang 
into the attitude of a proud Republic — prosperous, limitless, and 
invincible! Abhor the sword — stigmatize , the sword? No, my 
lord, for it swept the Dutch marauders out of the fine old towns of 
Belgium — scourged them back to their own phlegmatic swamps — 
and knocked their flag and sceptre, their laws and bayonets, into 
the sluggish waters of the Scheldt. 

" My lord, I learned that it was the right of a nation to govern 
itself, not in this hall, but on the ramparts of Antwerp ; I learned 
the first article of a nation's creed upon those ramparts, where 
freedom was justly estimated, and where the possession of the pre- 
cious gift was purchased by the effusion of generous blood. My 
lord, 1 honor the Belgians for their courage and their daring, and 
I will not stigmatize the means hy which they obtained a citizen- 
king, a chamber of deputies." 

It was all he was permitted to say. With flushed face 
and excited gesture John O'Connell rose and declared 
he could not sit and listen to the expression of such sen- 
timents. Either Mr. Meagher or he should leave the As- 
sociation. O'Brien interceded to obtain a hearing for his 
young friend, and protested against Mr. O'Connell's 
attempts to silence him. But the appeal was wasted. 
O'Brien left the hall in disgust, and with him, Meagher, 
Duffy, Reilly, and Mitchel quitted it forever. 

Meagher's subsequent career in Ireland is soon told. 
He was a regular attendant at the meetings of the Con- 
federation, of which he was one of the founders; and the 
fame of his eloquence, his manly appearance, and the 
charms of his youthful frankness contributed immensely 
towards the growth of the new organization. He always 
acted with O'Brien, whom he loved in his inmost soul, 
but he was respected and admired by every section of 
nationalists, the Mitchelites, the Duffyites, and we might 
even say the O'Connellites. When the country began to 
feel the influence of the whirlwind of revolution which 
swept over the continent, overturning thrones and wreck- 
ing constitutions as if they were built of cardboard, 
Meagher shared the wild impulse of the hour, and played 
boldly for insurrection and separation. He was one of 
the three gentlemen appointed to present the address 



138 SPEECHES FKOM THE DOCK. 

from Ireland to the French Republican government in 
1848 ; and in the speech delivered by him at the crowded 
meeting in the Dublin Music Hall before his departure, 
he counselled his countrymen to send a deputation to the 
Queen, asking her to convene the Irish parliament in the 
Irish capital. "If the claim be rejected/' said Meagher, 
" if the throne stand as a barrier between the Irish people 
and the supreme right — then loyalty will be a crime, and 
obedience to the executive will be treason to the country. 
Depute your worthiest citizens to approach the throne, 
and before that throne let the will of the Irish people 
be uttered with dignity and decision. If nothing comes 
of this," he added ; " if the constitution opens to us no 
path to freedom j if the Union be maintained in spite of 
the will of the Irish people j if the government of Ire- 
land insist on being a government of dragoons and bom- 
bardiers, of detectives and light infantry, then," he ex- 
claimed in the midst of tumultuous cheering, " up with 
the barricades, and invoke the God of Battles ! " 

While the republican spirit was in full glow in Ire- 
land, Meagher astonished his friends by rushing down to 
Waterford and offering himself as a candidate for the post 
left vacant in parliament by the resignation of O'Connell. 
By this time the Confederates had begun to despair of a 
parliamentary policy, and they marvelled much to see 
their young orator rush to the hustings, and throw him- 
self into the confusion and turmoil of an election contest. 
Que le diable allait il /aire dans cette galere, muttered his 
Dublin friends. Was not the time for hustings, orations, 
and parliamentary agitation over now? Meagher, how- 
ever, conceived, and perhaps wisely, that he could still 
do some good for his country in the House of Commons. 
He issued a noble address to the electors of his native 
city, in which he asked for their support on the most 
patriotic grounds. " I shall not meddle,' 7 he said, " with 
English affairs. I shall take no part in the strife of par- 
ties — all factions are alike to me. I shall go to the 
House of Commons to insist on the rights of this country 
to be held, governed, and defended by its own citizens, 
and by them alone. Whilst I live I shall never rest 



SPEECHES FKOM THE DOCK. 139 

satisfied until the kingdom of Ireland has won a parlia- 
ment, an army, and a navy of her own." Mitchel strongly 
disapproved of his conduct. " If Mr. Meagher were in 
parliament," said the United Irishman, " men's eyes would 
be attracted thither once more; some hope of ' justice ' 
might again revive in this too easily deluded people." 
The proper men to send to parliament were, according to 
Mitchel, " old placemen, pensioners, five pound Concilia- 
tion Hall Repealers." " We have no wish to dictate," 
concluded Mitchel in an article on the subject, full of the 
lurking satire and the quiet humor that leavened his 
writings; "but if the electors of Waterford have any 
confidence in us, we shall only say that we are for 
Costello ! " 

" Costello " was defeated, however, but so was Meagher. 
The Young Ireland champion was stigmatized as a Tory 
by the Whigs, and as a rebel by the Tories ; if the people, 
as Mitchel remarks, had any power, he would have been 
elected by an overwhelming majority, but the people 
had no votes, and Sir Henry Winston Barron was re- 
turned. Meagher went back to Dublin almost a convert 
to Mitchel's views, leaving Whig, Tory, and West Briton 
to exult over his discomfiture. 

We have already seen what Meagher did when the 
gauge of battle was thrown down, and when " the day 
all hearts to weigh" was imagined to have arrived, wo 
have seen how he accompanied O'Brien in his expedition 
from Wexford to Kilkenny, and thence to Tipperary ; and 
how, on the morning of July 29th, 1848, he left O'Brien 
at Ballingarry, little dreaming of the tragedy which was, 
to make that day memorable, and expecting to be able to 
bring reinforcements to his leader from other quarters 
before the crisis came. He failed, however, in his effort 
to spread the flames of insurrection. The chilling news 
of O'Brien's defeat — distorted and exaggerated by l*ostile 
tongues — was before him everywhere, and even the most 
resolute of his sympathizers had sense enough to see that 
their opportunity, if it existed at all, had passed away. 
On the 12th day of August, 1848, Meagher was arrested 
on the roads between Clonoulty and Holycross, in Tip- 



140 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

perary. He was walking along in company with Patrick 
O'Donoghue and Maurice R. Leyne, two of his intimate 
friends and fellow-outlaws, when a party of police passed 
them by. Neither of the three was disguised, but Meagher 
and Leyne wore frieze overcoats, which somewhat altered 
their usual appearance. After a short time the police 
returned j Meagher and his companions gave their real 
names on being interrogated, and they were at once ar- 
rested and taken in triumph to Thurles. The three 
friends bore their ill-fortune with what their captors must 
have considered provoking nonchalance. Meagher smoked 
a cigar on the way to the station, and the trio chatted as 
gaily as if they were walking in safety on the free soil of 
America, instead of being helpless prisoners on their way 
to captivity and exile. 

Meagher stood in the dock at Clonmel a week after 
O'Brien had quitted it a convict. He was defended by 
Mr. Whiteside and Isaac Butt, whose magnificent speech 
in his defence was perhaps the most brilliant display of 
forensic eloquence ever heard within the court in which 
he stood. Of course the jury was packed (only eighteen 
Catholics were named on a jury-panel of 300), and of course 
the Crown carried its point. On the close of the sixth day 
of the trial, the jury returned into court with a verdict of 
"guilty," recommending the prisoner to mercy on the 
ground of his youth. 

Two days later he was brought back to the dock to 
receive sentence. He was dressed in his usual style, ap- 
peared in excellent health, and bore himself — we are 
told — throughout the trying ordeal, with fortitude and 
manly dignity. He spoke as follows : — 

"My lords, it is my intention to say a few words only. I desire 
that the last act of a proceeding which has occupied so much of the 
public time, should be of short duration. Nor have I the indelicate 
wish to close the dreary ceremony of a state prosecution with a 
vain display of words. Did I fear that hereafter, when I shall be 
no more, the country I tried to serve would speak ill of me, I 
might, indeed, avail myself of this solemn moment to vindicate my 
sentiments and my conduct. But I have no such fear. The 
country will judge of those sentiments and that conduct in a light 
far different from that in which the jury by whom I have been con- 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 141 

victed have viewed them ; and by the country the sentence which 
you, my lords, are about to pronounce, will be remembered only as 
the severe and solemn attestation of my rectitude and truth. What- 
ever be the language in which that sentence be spoken, I know 
that my fate will meet with sympathy, and that my memory will 
be honored. In speaking thus, accuse me not, my lords, of an 
indecorous presumption in the efforts I have made in a just and 
noble cause. I ascribe no main importance, nor do I claim for 
those efforts any high reward. But it so happens, and it will ever 
happen so, that they who have lived to serve their country—no 
matter how weak their efforts may have been — are sure to receive 
the thanks and blessings of its people. With my countrymen I 
leave my memory, my sentiments, my acts, proudly feeling that 
they require no vindication from me this day. A jury of ray 
countrymen, it is true, have found me guilty of the crime of which 
I stood indicted. For this I entertain not the slightest feeling of 
resentment towards them. Influenced as they must have been by 
the charge of the Lord Chief Justice, they could perhaps have found 
no other verdict. What of that charge? Any strong observations 
on it I feel sincerely would ill-befit the solemnity of this scene ; 
but I would earnestly beseech of you, my lord — you who preside 
on that bench — when the passions and the prejudices of this hour 
have passed away, to appeal to your own conscience, and ask of it 
was your charge what it ought to have been, impartial and in- 
different between the subject and the Crown ? My lords, you 
may deem this language unbecoming in me, and perhaps it may- 
seal my fate ; but I am here to speak the truth, whatever H 
may cost — I am here to regret nothing I have ever done, to 
regret nothing I have ever said — I am here to crave with no 
lying lip the life I consecrate to the liberty of my country. Far 
from it. Even here — here, where the thief, the libertine, the 
murderer, have left their footprints in the dust — here, on this spot, 
where the shadows of death surround me, and from which I see my 
early grave in an unanointed soil open to receive me — even here, 
encircled by these terrors, that hope which first beckoned me to the 
perilous sea on which I have been wrecked, still consoles, animates, 
and enraptures me. No ; I do not despair of my poor old country — 
her peace, her liberty, her glory. For that country I can do no 
more than bid her hope. To lift this island up — to make her a 
benefactor to humanity, instead of being, as she is now, the mean- 
est beggar in the world — to restore to her her native powers and her 
ancient constitution — this has been my ambition, and this ambition 
has been my crime. Judged by the law of England, I know this 
crime entails upon me the penalty of death ; but the history of 
Ireland explains that crime and justifies it. Judged by that history, 
I am no criminal, you (addressing Mr. MacManus) are no criminal, 
you ( addressing Mr. O'Donoghue ) are no criminal, and we 
deserve no punishment; judged by that history, the treason 
of which I stand convicted loses all its guilt, has been sanctified as 
a duty, and will be ennobled as a sacrifice. With these sentiments 



U2 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

I await the sentence of the court. I have done what I felt to he 
my duty. I have spoken now, as I did on every other occasion 
during my short life, what I felt to he the truth. I now bid fare- 
well to the country of my birth — of my passions — of my death ; a 
country whose misfortunes have invoked my sympathies— whose 
factions I sought to quell — whose intelligence I prompted to a lofty 
aim — whose freedom has been my fatal dream. To that country I 
now offer as a pledge of the love I bore her, and of the sincerity 
with which I thought and spoke and struggled for her freedom, 
the life of a young heart ; and with that life, the hopes, the honors, 
the endearments of a happy, a prosperous, and an honorable home. 
Proceed, then, my lords, with that sentence which the law directs — ■ 
I am prepared to hear it — I trust I am prepared to meet its execu- 
tion. I shall go, I think, with a light heart before a higher tri- 
bunal — a tribunal where a Judge of infinite goodness, as well as of 
infinite justice, will preside, and where, my lords, many, many of 
the judgments of this world will be reversed." 

There is little more for us to add. Meagher arrived 
with O'Brien, O'Donoghue, and MacManus in Van Diemen's 
Land in October, 1849, and escaped to America in 1852. 
He started the Irish News in New York, which he en- 
riched by personal recollections of the stirring scenes in 
which he participated ; but his career as a journalist 
closed abruptly with the outbreak of the war of Seces- 
sion, when he raised a zouave company to join Corcoran's 
69th Regiment, with which he fought gallantly at Bull's 
Run. Every one remembers how the gallantry of the 
Irish regiment in which Meagher served, saved the 
Federal forces from annihilation on that field of disaster. 
Subsequently he raised and commanded the Irish Brigade, 
which won imperishable laurels throughout the hard- 
fought campaigns that ended with the capture of Rich- 
mond. When Mr. Johnson became President of the 
United States, he appointed Meagher to the position of 
Governor of Montana Territory, in the far West, a post 
which he held until his death. 

His end was sad and sudden. One dark, wild night in 
July, 1S67, a gentleman suddenly disappeared from the 
deck of the steamer on which he was standing, and fell 
into the great Missouri, where it winds its course by the 
hills of Montana. The accident was too sudden for 
availing assistance. A sudden slip, a splash, a faint cry, 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 143 

a brief straggle, and all was over; the hungry waters 
closed over him, and the rapid-rolling current swept 
away his lifeless corse. The finished scholar, the genial 
friend, the matchless orator, the ardent patriot, was no 
more. Thomas Francis Meagher was dead. 



144 SPEECHES FKOM THE DOCK. 



KEVIN IZOD O'DOHERTY. 

Another bold, clever, and resolute opponent of British 
rule in Ireland was torn from the ranks of the popular 
leaders on the day that Kevin Izod O'Doherty was 
arrested. Amongst the cluster of talented and able men 
who led the Young Ireland phalanx, he was distinguished 
for his spirit and mental accomplishments ; amongst 
the organizers of the party his ready words, manly 
address, and ceaseless activity gave him a prominent 
position j amongst its journalists he was conspicuous for 
fearlessness, frankness, and ability. Over the surging 
waves of the excitement and agitation that convulsed 
the country during the period which ended with the 
affray at Ballingarry, and through the haze which time 
has cast over the attempted revolution of '48, his figure 
looms up in bold proportions, suggestive of mental 
capacity, fortitude of soul, and tenacity of purpose. For 
him, as for many of his brilliant associates, the paths of 
patriotism led down to proscription and pain ; but 
O'Doherty, fulminating the thunderbolts of the Tribune, 
or sowing the seeds of patriotism amongst the students 
of Dublin, was not one whit more self-possessed or un- 
daunted than when, standing a convict in the Green- 
street dock, he awaited the sentence of the court. 

Kevin Izod O'Doherty was born of respectable Catholic 
parents in Dublin, in June, 1824. He received a liberal 
education, by which he profited extensively, showing, 
even in his school-days, strong evidence of natural 
ability, and talents of more than average degree. He 
directed his attention to the medical profession on com- 
pleting his education, and was in the full tide of lectures 
and hospital attendance when the development of the 
national sentiment that pervaded the year '48 drew him 
into the vortex of public life. He became a hard-work- 
ing and enthusiastic member of the Young Ireland party, 




"XetA^K^ 



KEVIN T. O'DOHERTY. 

_,,„„ TKSFNCE B. MM AN US. 

THOMAS F. MEAGHER. TERENOfc. t*. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. H5 

and was one of the founders of the Students' and Poly- 
technic Clubs, which were regarded by the leaders in 
Dublin as the elite of the national force in the capital. 
"When Mitchel was struck down and his paper suppressed, 
O'Doherty was one of those who resolved that the poli- 
tical guidance which the United Irishman was meant to 
afford, should not be wanting to the people. In con- 
junction with Richard Dalton Williams — " Shamrock v 
of the Nation — he established the Irish Tribune, the first 
number of which saw the light on the 10th of June, 
]848. There could be no mistake about the objects of 
the Tribune, or the motives of its founders in establishing 
it. The British government could ill afford to endure the 
attacks on their exactions and usurpations thundered forth 
weekly in its articles. Its career was cut short by the 
mailed hand of authority at its fifth number, and on the 
10th of July, '48, Kevin Izod O'Doherty was an inmate 
of Newgate prison. 

On the 10th of August he was placed at the bar of 
Green-street court-house, and arraigned on a charge of 
treason-felony, and a vigorous effort was made by the 
Crown to convict him. The attempt, however, was a 
failure ; the jury-panel had not been juggled as effectively 
as usual, and a disagreement of the jury was the conse- 
quence. The Crown, however, had no idea of relaxing 
its grasp of its victim ; after John Martin's conviction 
O'Doherty was put forward again, and anew jury selected 
to try him. Again were the government defeated ; the 
second jury, like the first, refused to agree to a verdict of 
guilty, and were discharged without convicting the 
prisoner. A third time was O'Doherty arraigned, and this 
time the relentless hatred of his persecutors was gratified 
by a verdict of guilty. The speech delivered by Mr. 
O'Doherty after conviction was as follows : — 



" My lords : — I did hope, I confess, that, upon being placed in this 
dock for the third time, after two juries of my fellow-citizens had 
refused to find a verdict against me, that while my prosecutors 
would have been scrupulous in their care in attempting to uphold 
their law, they would not have violated the very spirit of justice." 



146 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



Judge Crampton : — " I have a great difficulty in preventing you 
from making any observations that may occur to you to be of ser- 
vice ; but if you mean to cast imputations or obloquy upon the law 
officers of the Crown, the court cannot permit that." 

Mr. O'Doherty : — " I only Avish to mention a matter of fact. The 
Attorney-General stated that there were only three Eoman Cath- 
olics set aside on my jury." 

Judge Crampton again interposed*, and requested the prisoner not 
to pursue this line of observation. 

Mr. O'Doherty : — " I would feel much obliged if your lordship 
would permit, me to mention a few more words with reference to my 
motives throughout this affair. 

" I had but one object and purpose in view. I did feel deeply 
for the sufferings and privations endured by my fellow-countrymen. 
I did wish, by all means consistent with a manly and honorable 
resistance, to assist in putting an end to that suffering. It is very 
true, and I will confess it, that I desired an open resistance of the 
people to that government, which, in my opinion, entailed these 
sufferings upon them. I have used the words ' open and honorable 
resistance,' iu order that I might refer to one of the articles brought 
in evideuce against me, in which the writer suggests such things as 
flinging burning hoops on the soldiery. My lords, these are no 
sentiments of mine. I did not write that article. I did not see it 
or know of it until I read it when published in the paper. But I 
did not bring the writer of it here on the table. Why ? I knew 
that, if I were to do so, it would only be handing him over at the 
court-house doors to what one of the witnesses has very properly 
called the fangs of the Attorney-General. With respect to myseli, 
I have no fears. I trust I will be enabled to bear my sentence with 
all the forbearance due to what I believe to be the opinion of twelve 
conscientious enemies to me, and I will bear with due patience the 
wrath of the government whose mouthpiece they were; but I will 
never cease to deplore the destiny that gave me birth in this un- 
happy country, and compelled me, as an Irishman, to receive at 
your hands a felon's doom, for discharging what I conceived, and 
what I still conceive, to be my duty. I shall only add, that the fact 
is, that, instead of three Roman Catholic jurors' being set aside by 
the Attorney-General, there were thirteen ; I bold in my hand a 
list of their names, and out of the twelve jurors he permitted to be 
sworn, there was not one Roman Catholic." 

Mr. O'Doherty was sentenced to transportation for ten 
years. He sailed for Van Diemen's Land in the same 
ship that bore John Martin into exile. In the course of 
time he, like Martin and O'Brien, was set at liberty on 
condition of his residing anywhere out of "the United 
Kingdom." He came on to Paris, and there resumed his 
medical studies. He paid, however, one secret and 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. J 47 

hurried visit to Ireland. He came to wed and bear 
away with him, to share his fortune in other lands, a 
woman in every way worthy of him — one whose genius 
and talents, like his own, had been freely given to the 
cause of Ireland, and whose heart had long been his in 
the bonds of a most tender attachment. " Eva," one of 
the fair poetesses of the Nation, was the plighted wife of 
O'Doherty. Terrible must have been the shock to her 
gentle nature when her patriot lover was borne off a 
convict, and shipped for England's penal settlements in 
the far Southern seas. She believed, however, they 
would meet again, and she knew that neither time nor 
distance could chill the ardor of their mutual affection. 
The volumes of the Nation published during his captivity 
contain many exquisite lyrics from her pen mourning for 
the absent one, with others expressive of unchanging 
affection, and the most intense faith in the truth of her 
distant lover. "The course of true love" in this case 
ended happily. O'Doherty, as we have stated, managed 
to slip across from Paris to Ireland, and returned with 
"Eva" his bride. In 1856 the pardons granted to the 
exiles above named were made unconditional, and in the 
following year O'Doherty returned to Ireland, where he 
took out his degrees with great eclat ; he then commenced 
the practice of medicine and surgery in Dublin, and soon 
came to be ranked amongst the most distinguished and 
successful members of his profession. After remaining 
some years in Ireland, Mr. O'Doherty sailed far away 
seawards once again, and took up his abode under the 
light of the Southern Cross. He settled in a rising 
colony of Australia, where he still lives, surrounded by 
troops of friends, and enjoying the position to which his 
talents and his high character entitle him. 



148 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



TERENCE BELLEW MacMANUS. 

The excitement, caused by the startling events of wbich 
this country was the scene in the summer of 1848, ex- 
tended far beyond the shores of Ireland. Away beyond 
the Atlantic, the news from Ireland was watched for 
with glistening eyes by the exiles who dwelt by the 
shores of Manhattan, or in the backwoods of Canada. 
Amongst the Irish colony in England the agitation was 
still greater. Dwelling in the hearts of the monster 
towns of England, the glow of the furnace lighting up 
their swarthy faces ; toiling on the canals, on the rail- 
ways, in the steamboats ; filling the factories, plying 
their brawny hands where the hardest work was to be 
done; hewers of wood, and drawers of water; living in 
the midst of the English, yet separated from them by all 
,the marks of a distinctive nationality, by antagonistic 
feelings, by clashing interests, by jarring creeds, — such 
was the position of the men who carried the faith, the 
traditions, the politics, and the purpose of Ireland into 
the heart of the enemy's country. With their country- 
men at home they were united by the warmest ties of 
sympathy and affection. In London, in Manchester, in 
Birmingham, in Leeds, Confederate Clubs were estab- 
lished, and actives measures taken for cooperating with 
the Young Ireland leaders in whatever course they might 
think proper to adopt. In Liverpool those clubs were 
organized on the most extensive scale; thousands of 
Irishmen attended their weekly meetings, and speeches, 
rivalling those delivered at the Rotundo and at the 
Music Hall in fervor and earnestness, were spoken from 
their platforms. Amongst the Irishmen who figured 
prominently at these gatherings there was one to whom 
the Irish in Liverpool looked up with peculiar confi- 
dence and pride. He was young, he was accomplished, 
he was wealthy, he filled a highly respectable position in 
society; his name was connected by every one with 
probity and honor ; and, above all, he was a nationalist, 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. J 49 

unselfish, enthusiastic, and ardent. The Irishmen of 
Liverpool will not need to be told that we speak of 
Terence Bel lew MacManus. 

The agitation of 1848 found MacManus in good busi- 
ness as a shipping agent, his income being estimated by 
his Liverpool friends at ten or twelve hundred a year. 
His patriotism was of too genuine a nature to be merged 
in his commercial success, and MacManus readily aban- 
doned his prospects and his position when his country 
seemed to require the sacrifice. Instantly on discovering 
that the government were about to suspend the 'Habeas 
Corpus Act in Ireland, he took the steamer for Dublin, 
bringing with him the green and gold uniform which he 
owned in virtue of being a general of the '82 Club. In 
the same steamer came two detectives sent specially to 
secure his arrest in Dublin. MacManus drove from the 
quay, where he landed, to the Felon Office. He dis- 
covered that all the Confederate leaders out of prison 
had gone southwards, on hostile thoughts intent ; and 
MacManus resolved on joining them without a moment's 
hesitation. Having managed to give the detectives the 
slip, he journeyed southwards to Tipperary, and joined 
O'Brien's party at Killenaule. He shared the fortunes 
of the insurgent leaders until the dispersion at Ballin- 
garry, where he fought with conspicuous bravery and 
determination. He was the first to arrive before the 
house in which the police took refuge, and the last to 
leave it. The Rev. Mr. Fitzgerald, P. P., an eye-witness, 
gives an interesting account of MacManus' conduct during 
the attack on the Widow M'Oormick's house. He says : — 

"With about a dozen men more determined than the rest, was 
MacManus, who indeed, throughout the whole day, showed more 
courage and resolution than any one else. With a musket in his 
hand, and in the face of the enemy, he reconnoitered the place, 
and observed every accessible approach to the house, and with 
a few colliers, under cover of a cart-load of hay, which they pushed 
on before them, came up to the postern-door of the kitchen. Here 
with his own hand he fired several pistol-shots to make it ignite, 
but from the state of the weather, which was damp and heavy, and 
from the constant down-pour of rain on the previous day, this 
attempt proved quite unsuccessful. With men so expert at the 
use of the pickaxe, and so large a supply of blasting-powder at the 



150 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

collieries, he could have quickly undermined the house, or blown it 
up ; but the circumstance of so many children being shut in with 
the police, and the certainty that, if they persevered, all would be 
involved in the same ruin, compelled him afld his associates to desist 
from their purpose." 

When it became useless to offer further resistance, 
MacManus retired with the peasautry to the hills, and 
dwelt with them several days. Having shaved off 
his whiskers, and made some other changes in his ap- 
pearance, he succeeded in running the gauntlet through 
the host of spies and detectives on his trail, and he was 
actually on board a large vessel on the point of sailing 
for America from Cork harbor, when arrested by the 
police. His discovery was purely accidental ; the police 
boarded the vessel in chase of an absconding defaultei, 
but, while prosecuting the search, one of the constables 
who had seen MacManus occasionally in Liverpool, recog- 
nized him. At first he gave his name as O'Donnell, said 
he was an Irish-American returning westward, after 
visiting his friends in the old land. His answers, how- 
ever, were not sufficiently consistent to dissipate the 
constable's suspicion. He was brought ashore and taken 
handcuffed before a magistrate, whereupon he avowed 
his name, and boldly added that he did not regret any 
act he had done, and would cheerfully go through it 
again. 

On the 10th of October, 1848, he was brought to trial 
for high treason in Clonmel. He viewed the whole pro- 
ceedings with calm indifference, and, when the verdict of 
guilty was brought in, he heard the announcement with 
unaltered mien. A fortnight later he was brought up to 
receive sentence ; Meagher and O'Donoghue had been 
convicted in the interim, and the three Confederates 
stood side by side in the dock to hear the doom of the 
traitor pronounced against them. MacManus was the 
first to speak in reply to the usual formality, and his 
address was as follows : — 

" My lords : — I trust I am enough of a Christian and enough of a 
man to understand the awful responsibility of the question which 
has been put to me. Standing upon my native soil — standing in 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 151 

an Irish court of justice, and before the Irish nation — I have much 
to say why the sentence of death, or the sentence of the law, should 
not be passed upon me. But upon entering into this court I placed 
my life — and what is of more importance to me, my honor — in the 
hands of two advocates ; and if I had ten thousand lives and ten 
thousand honors, I should be content to place them all in the 
watchful and glorious genius of the one, and the patient zeal and 
talent of the other. I am, therefore, content, and with regard to 
that I have nothing to say. But I have a word to say, which no 
advocate, however anxious and devoted he may be, can utter for 
me. I say, whatever part I may have taken in the struggle for my 
country's independence, whatever part I may have acted in my 
short career, I stand before you, my lords, with a free heart and 
a light conscience, to abide the issue of your sentence. And now, 
my lords, this is perhaps the fittest time to put a sentence upon 
record, which is this — that, standing in this dock, and called to 
ascend the scaffold — it may be to-morrow — it may be now — it may 
be never — whatever the result may be, I wish to put this on record, 
that in the part I have taken I was not actuated by enmity towards 
Englishmen — for among them I have passed some of the happiest 
days of my life, and the most prosperous ; and in no part which I 
have taken was I actuated by enmity towards Englishmen in- 
dividually, whatever I may have felt of the injustice of English 
rule in this island; I therefore say, that it is not because I loved 
England less, but because I loved Ireland more, that I now stand 
before you." 

In 1851, MacManus escaped from captivity in Van 
Diemen's Land, and he soon after settled in California, 
where he died. His funeral • was the greatest ever wit- 
nessed upon earth. From the shores of the Pacific thou- 
sands of miles away, across continents and oceans, they 
brought him, and laid his ashes to rest in the land of 
his birth. On the 10th day of November, 1861, that 
wonderful funeral passed through the streets of Dublin 
to Grlasnevin ; and those who saw the gathering that fol- 
lowed his coffin to the grave, the thousands of stalwart 
men that marched in solemn order behind his bier, will 
never forget the sight. A silent slab unlettered and un- 
marked shows the spot where his remains were interred ; 
no storied urn or animated bust, no marble column or 
commemorative tablet, has been consecrated to his 
memory, but the history of his life is graven in the hearts 
of his countrymen, and he enjoys, in their affectionate 
remembrance, a monument more enduring than human 
hands could build him. 



152 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



THOMAS CLARKE LUBY. 

Looking along the course of Irish history, it is easy to 
point out certain periods in which England could have 
found an opportunity for making terras with the Irish 
nation, healing some of the old wounds, and mitigating 
in some degree the burning sense of wrong and the de- 
sire of vengeance that rankled in the hearts of the Irish 
race. There were lulls in the struggle, intervals of 
gloomy calm, occasions when the heart of Ireland might 
have been touched by generous deeds, and when the 
offer of the olive branch, or even a few of its leaves, 
would have had a blessed effect. But England never 
availed of them — never for an instant sought to turn 
them to good account. She preferred, when Ireland was 
defeated, prostrate, and forlorn, to taunt her with her 
failure, scoff at her sufferings, and add to her afflictions. 
Such was her conduct during the mournful time that 
followed on the attempted insurrection of 1848. ' 

It was an appalling time, in whose death-laden atmo- 
sphere political action was impossible. The famine had 
made of the country one huge graveyard. A silence fell 
upon the land, lately so clamorous for her rights, so hope- 
ful, and so defiant. The Repeal organization spoke no 
more j the tramp of the Confederate clubs was no longer 
heard in the streets ; O'Connell was dead ; the Young 
Ireland leaders were fugitives or prisoners; and the 
people were almost bewildered by a sense of their great 
calamity. Then, if England had stooped to raise her 
fallen foe, offered her some kindly treatment, and spoken 
some gracious words, the bitterness of the old quarrel 
might have been in some degree assuaged, even though 
its cause should not be entirely obliterated. But Eng- 
land did not choose to take that politic and Christian 
course. She found it much pleasanter to chuckle over 
the discomfiture of the Irish patriots, to ridicule the 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 153 

failure of their peaceable agitation, to sneer at their 
poor effort in arms, to nickname and misrepresent and 
libel the brave-hearted gentleman who led that unlucky 
endeavor ; and, above all, to felicitate herself on the re- 
duction that had taken place in the Irish population. 
That — from her point of view — was the glorious part of 
the whole affair. The Irish were "gone with a venge- 
ance ! n — not all of them, but a goodly proportion, and 
others were going off every day. Emigrant ships clus- 
tered in the chief ports, and many sought their living 
freights in those capacious harbors along the Atlantic 
coast which nature seemed to have shaped for the accom- 
modation of a great commerce, but where the visit of 
any craft larger than a fishing smack was a rare event. 
The flaming placards of the various shipping lines were 
posted in every town in Ireland, — on the chapel-gates, 
and „the shutters of closed shops, and the doors of 
tenantless houses ; and there appeared to be in progress 
a regular breaking up of the Irish nation. This, to the 
English mind, was positively delightful. For, here was 
the Irish question being settled, at last, by the simple 
process of the transference of the Irish people to the 
bottom of the deep sea, or else to the continent of America — 
nearly the same thing as far as England was concerned ; 
for, in neither place — as it seemed to her — could they ever 
more trouble her peace, or have any claim on those fruits 
of the Irish soil which were needed for the stomachs of 
Englishmen. There they could no longer pester her 
with petitions for Tenant Right, or demands for a Repeal 
of the Union. English farmers, and drovers, and labor- 
ers, loyal to the English government, and yielding no 
sort of allegiance to the Pope, would cross the Channel 
and take possession of the deserted island, which would 
thenceforth be England's in such a sense as it never was 
before. O magnificent consummation ! most brilliant 
prospects, in the eyes of English statesmen ! • They saw 
their way clear, they understood their game ; it was : to 
lighten in no degree the pressure which they main- 
tained upon the lives of the Irish people, to do nothing 
that could tend to render existence tolerable to them in 



154 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

Ireland, or check the rush of emigration. Acting in con- 
formity with this shallow and false estimate of the situa- 
tion, they allowed to drift away unused the time which 
wise statesmen would have employed in the effectuation 
of conciliatory and tranquilizing measures, and applied 
themselves simply to the crushing out from the Irish 
mind of every hope of improved legislation, and the defeat 
of every effort to obtain it. Thus when the people — 
waking up from the stupefaction that followed on the 
most tragic period of the famine — began to breathe the 
breath of political life again, and, perceiving the danger 
that menaced the existence of the peasant classes, set 
on foot an agitation to procure a reform of the land-laws, 
the government resolutely opposed the project j defeated 
the bills which the friends of the tenantry brought into par- 
liament, and took steps, which proved only too successful, 
for the break up of the organization by which the move- 
ment was conducted. And then, when Frederick Lucas 
was dead, aud Mr. Duffy had gone into exile, and the 
patriot priests were debarred from taking part in politics, 
and Messrs. John Sadlier and William Keogh were 
bought over by bribes of place and pay, the government 
appeared to think that Irish patriotism had fought in its 
last ditch, and received its final defeat. 

But they were mistaken. The old cause that had sur- 
vived so many disasters was not dead yet. While the 
efforts of the Tenant Righters in Ireland were being 
foiled, and their party was being scattered, a couple of 
Irishmen, temporarily resident in Paris, fugitive be- 
cause of their connection with the events of '48, were 
laying the foundations of a movement more profoundly 
dangerous to England than any of those with which she 
had grappled since the days of Wolfe Tone and Lord 
Edward Fitzgerald. Those men were John O'Mahony 
and James Stephens. 

Since then their names have been much heard of, and 
the organization of which they were the originators has 
played an important part in Irish history. But at the 
period of which we are now writing, the general public 
knew nothing of O'Mahony or of Stephens beyond the 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 155 

fact that they were alleged to have taken some part in 
the recent insurrectionary demonstrations. Stephens, 
who was then a very young lad, had been present at the 
Ballingarry attack, and had been severely wounded by 
the tire of the police. He managed to crawl away from 
the spot to a ditch-side, where he was lost sight of. A 
report of his death was put into circulation, and a loyal 
journal published in Kilkenny — the native town of the 
young rebel, who in this instance played his first trick on 
the government — referred to his supposed decease in 
terms w T hich showed that the rule de mortuis nil nisi 
bonum found acceptance with the editor. The following 
are the words of the obituary notice which appeared in 
the Kilkenny Moderator on or about the 19th of August, 
1848:— 

"Poor James Stephens, who followed Smith O'Brien to the 
field, has died of the wound which he received at Ballingarry, 
whilst acting as aide-de-camp to the insurgent leader. Mr. Stephens 
was a very amiable, and, apart from politics, most inoffensive young 
man, possessed of a great deal of talent, and we believe he was a 
most excelleut son and brother. His untimely and melancholy fate 
will be much regretted by a numerous circle of friends." 

It is said that his family very prudently fostered this 
delusion by going into mourning for the loss of young 
James — the suggestion of which clever ruse probably 
came from the dear boy himself. A short time after- 
wards he managed to escape, disguised as a lady's maid, 
to France. As one may gather from the paragraph above 
quoted, the family were much respected in the locality. 
Mr. Stephens, father of the future 0. O. I. R., was clerk in 
the establishment of a respectable auctioneer and book- 
seller in Kilkenny. He gave his children a good edu- 
cation, and sent young James to a Catholic seminary, 
with a view to his being taught and trained for the 
priesthood. But circumstances prevented the realiza- 
tion of this design, and before any line of business could 
be marked out for young Stephens, the political events 
above referred to took place and shaped his future career. 

John O'Mahony was a different stamp of man. He 



156 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

belonged to the class known as gentlemen-farmers, and 
of that class he was one of the most respected. His 
family owned a considerable tract of land in the southern 
part of the county of Tipperary, of which they had been 
occupants for many generations. He was well educated, 
of studious habits, and thoroughly imbued with patriotic 
feeling, which came to him as a hereditary possession. 
When the Young Ireland leaders were electrifying the 
country by their spirited appeals to the patriotism and 
bravery of the Irish race, and the population in all the 
chief centres of intelligence were crystallizing into semi- 
military organizations, O'Mahony was not apathetic or 
inactive. One of the strongest of the Confederate clubs 
— which were thick sown in the contiguous districts of 
the counties of Cork, Waterford, and Tipperary — was 
under his presidency; and when in Jul} 7 , 1848, the 
leaders of the movement scattered themselves over the 
country for the purpose of ascertaining the degree of 
support they would receive if they should decide on un- 
furling the green banner, his report of the state of affairs 
in his district was one of their most cheering encourage- 
ments. 

A. few days afterwards, the outbreak under O'Brien oc- 
curred at Ballingarry. The failure of that attempt, and 
the irresolute manner in which it was conducted, had 
disheartened the country, but the idea of allowing the 
struggle to rest at that point was not universally enter- 
tained by the leaders of the clubs ; and John O'Mahony 
was one of those who resolved that another attempt 
should be made to rally the people to the insurrectionary 
standard. He acted up to his resolution. On the night 
of the 12th of September there were signal-fires on the 
slopes of Slievenamon and the Comeragh mountains, 
and the district between Carrick-on-Suir and Callan was 
in a state of peiturbation. ftext day the alarm was 
spread in all directions. The gentry of the disturbed 
districts rushed into the nearest towns for protection ; 
police from the outlying barracks were called in to re- 
inforce the threatened stations, and troops were hastily 
summoned from Dublin and the neighboring garrisons. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 157 

Meanwhile parties of the insurgents began to move about. 
One proceeded to the police station at the Slate-quarries, 
and finding it deserted — the policemen having retired on 
Piltown — burned it to the ground. Another attempted 
the destruction of Grany bridge, to delay the advance of 
the soldiery. A third proceeded to attack the Glenbower 
station. The defenders of the barracks were in a rather 
critical position when another party of police, on their 
way from the Nine-Mile-House station to Carrick, came 
upon the spot, and the combined force speedily put their 
half-armed assailants to flight, with a loss to the latter of 
one man severely wounded and one killed. An attack 
was made on the barrack at Portlaw, but with a like re- 
sult j two men were stricken dead by the bullets of the 
police. The people soon afterwards scattered to their 
homes, and the soldiery and police had nothing to do 
but hunt up for the leaders and other parties implicated 
in the movement. John O'Mahony narrowly escaped 
capture on three or four occasions. He lingered in the 
country, however, until after the conviction of the state 
prisoners at Clonmel, when it became clear to him that 
the cause was lost for a time j and he then took his way 
to Paris, whither several of his fellow outlaws, for whose 
arrest the government had offered large rewards, had 
gone before him. 

In that famous centre of intellect and intrigue, the 
focus of political thought, the fountain-head of great ideas, 
John O'Mahony and James Stephens pondered long over 
the defeat that had come upon the Irish cause, and in 
their ponderings bethought them that the reason of the 
failure which they deplored was to be found in the want 
of that quiet, earnest, secret preparation, by means of 
which the Continental revolutionists were able to pro- 
duce from time to time such volcanic effects in European 
politics, and cause the most firmly-rooted dynasties to 
tremble for their positions. The system of secret con- 
spiracy — that ancient system, "old as the universe, yet 
not outworn" — a system not unknown in Ireland from 
the days of the Attacots to those of the Whitebovs — the 
system of Sir Phelim O'Neill and of Theobald" Wolfe 



158 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

Tone — that system, as developed, refined and elaborated 
by the most subtle intellects of modern times, those two 
men proposed to propagate among the Irish race at home 
and abroad. They divided the labor between them. 
O'Mahony took the United States of America for his 
field of action, and Stephens took the Old Country. 

It was in the year 1858 that the first symptoms indi- 
cative of the work to which James Stephens had set him- 
self, made their appearance in the extreme south-west of 
Ireland. Whispers went about that some of the young 
men of Kenmare, Bantry, and Skibbereen were enrolled 
in a secret sworn organization, and were in the habit of 
meeting for the purpose of training and drilling. Indeed 
the members of the new society took little pains to conceal 
its existence ; they seemed rather to find a pride in the 
knowledge which their neighbors had of the fact, and re- 
lied for their legal safety on certain precautions adopted 
in the manner of their initiation as members. When 
informed firstly by well-known nationalists in a private 
manner, and subsequently by public remonstrances ad- 
dressed to them by Catholic clergymen and the national 
journals, that the government were on their track, they 
refused to believe it ; but ere long they suffered griev- 
ously for their incredulity and want of prudence. In 
the early days of December, 1858, the swoop of the 
government was made on the members of the "Phoenix 
Society" in Cork and Kerry, and arrests followed shortly 
after, in other parts of the country. The trials in the 
south commenced at Tralee in March, 1859, when a 
conviction was obtained against a man named Daniel 
O'Sullivan, and he was sentenced to penal servitude for 
ten years. The remaining cases were adjourned to the 
next assizes, and when they came on in July, 1859, the 
prisoners put in a plea of guilty, and were set at liberty 
on the understanding that, if their future conduct should 
not be satisfactory to the authorities, they would be called 
up for sentence. Amongst the Cork prisoners who took 
this course was Jeremiah O'Donovan (Rossa), whose name 
has since been made familiar to the public. 

Those events were generally supposed to have ex- 



SPEECHES FHOM THE DOCK. 159 

languished the Phoenix conspiracy. And many of Ire- 
land's most sincere friends hoped that such was the case. 
Recognizing fully the peculiar powers which a secret 
society can bring to bear against the government, they 
still felt a profound conviction that the risks, or rather 
the certain cost of liberty and life involved in such a 
mode of procedure, formed more than a counterpoise for the 
advantages which it presented. They were consequently 
earnest and emphatic in their endeavors to dissuade 
their countrymen from treading in the dangerous paths 
in which their steps were dogged by the spy and the in- 
former. The Catholic clergy were especially zealous in 
their condemnation of secret revolutionary societies, urged 
thereto by a sense of their duty as priests and patriots. 
But there were men connected with the movement, both 
in America and Ireland, who were resolved to persevere 
in their design of extending the organization among the 
Irish people, despite of any amount of opposition from 
any quarter whatsoever. In pursuit of that object they 
were not overscrupulous as to the means they employed ; 
they did not hesitate to violate many an honorable 
principle, and to wrong many an honest man, nor did 
they exhibit a fair share of common prudence in dealing 
with the difficulties of their position; but unexpected 
circumstances arose to favor their propagandism, and it 
went ahead despite of all their mistakes and of every ob- 
stacle. One of those circumstances was the outbreak of 
the civil war in America, which took place in April, 1861. 
That event seemed to the leaders of the Irish revolu- 
tionary organization, now known as the Fenian Brother- 
hood, to be one of the most fortunate for their purposes 
that could have happened. It inspired the whole popu- 
lation of America with military ardor; it opened up a 
splendid school in which the Irish section of the people 
could acquire a knowledge of the art of war, which was 
.exactly what was needed to give real efficacy to their en- 
deavors for the overthrow of British dominion in 
Ireland. Besides, there appeared to be a strong proba- 
bility that the line of action in favor of the Southern 
States which England, notwithstanding her proclamation 



160 SPEECHES EROM THE DOCK. 

of neutrality, bad adopted from an early stage of the con- 
flict, would speedily involve her in a war with the 
Federal government. These things constituted a pros- 
pect dazzling to the eves of the Irishmen who had " gone 
with a vengeance." Their hearts bounded with joy at the 
opportunities that appeared to be opening on them. At 
last the time was near, they believed, when the accu- 
mulated hate of seven centuries would burst upon tho 
power of England, not in the shape of an undisciplined 
peasantry armed with pikes, and scythes, and pitchforks, 
as in 1798 — not in the shape of a half-famished and 
empty-handed crowd, led to battle by orators and poets, 
as in 1S48, but in the shape of an army, bristling with 
sharp steel, and flanked with thunderous cannon — an 
army skilled in the modern science of war, directed by 
true military genius, and inspired by that burning valor 
which in all times was one of the qualities of the Irish 
race. Influenced by such hopes and feelings, the Irish 
of the Northern States poured by thousands into the 
Federal ranks, and formed themselves into regiments 
that were at the same time so many Fenian circles. In 
the Southern army, too, there were many Irishmen who 
were not less determined to give to their native land 
the benefit of their military experience, as soon as the 
troubles of their adopted country should be brought to 
an end. Fenianism, with that glow of light upon it, spread 
like a prairie-fire through the States. The ranks of the 
organization swelled rapidly, and money contributions 
poured like a tide into its treasury. The impulse was 
felt also by the society in Ireland. It received a rapid 
development, and soon began to put on a bold front towards 
the government, and a still more belligerent one towards 
all Irishmen who, while claiming the character of pa- 
triots, declined to take part in the Fenian movement or 
recommend it to their countrymen. In November, 1863, 
the Brotherhood started the Irish People newspaper in 
Dublin, for the double purpose of propagating their 
doctrines and increasing the revenues of the societ\'. 
James Stephens was the author of this most unfortunate 
project. The men whom he selected for working, it out were 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 161 

Thomas Clarke Luby, John O'Leary, and Charles Joseph 
Kickham. 

From the date of its establishment up to the month 
of September, 1865 — a period of nearly two years — the 
Irish People occupied itself in preaching what its editors 
regarded as the cardinal doctrines of the society, which 
were : — That constitutional agitation for the redress of 
Ireland's grievances was worse than useless ; that every 
man taking part in such agitation was either a fool or a 
knave ; that in political affairs clergymen should be held 
of no more account than laymen ; and that the only 
hope for Ireland lay in an armed uprising of the 
people. These doctrines were not quite new j not one of 
them was absolutely true ; but they were undoubtedly held 
by many thousands of Irishmen, and the Fenian society 
took care to secure for the journal in which they were ad- 
vocated a iarge circulation. The office of the Irish 
People soon came to be regarded as, what it really was, 
the headquarters of the Fenian organization in Ireland. 
To it the choice spirits of the party resorted for counsel 
and. direction j thither the provincial organizers directed 
their steps whenever they visited Dublin • into it poured 
weekly from all parts of the country an immense mass of cor- 
respondence, which the editors, instead of destroying after 
it had passed through their hands, foolishly allowed to ac- 
cumulate upon their shelves, though every word of it was 
fraught with peril to the lives and liberties of their friends. 
In their private residences also they were incautious enough 
to keep numerous documents of a most compromising 
character. There is but one way of accounting for their 
conduct in this matter. They may have supposed that 
the legal proceedings against them, which they knew 
were certain to take place at one time or another, would 
be conducted in the semi-constitutional fashion which 
was adopted towards the national journals in 1848. If 
the staff of the Irish People had received a single day's 
notice that they were about to be made amenable to the 
law, it is possible that they would have their houses and 
their office immediately cleared of those documents 
which afterwards consigned so many of their country- 



•162 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

men to the horrors of penal servitude. But they saw 
no reason to suppose that the swoop was about to be 
made on them. On the fifteenth day of September, 
1865, there were no perceptible indications that the 
authorities were any more on the alert in reference to 
Fenian affairs than they had been during the past twelve 
months. It was Friday; the Irish People had been 
printed for the next day's sale, large batches of the paper 
had been sent off to the agents in town and country, the 
editors and publishing clerks had gone home to rest after 
their week's labors — when suddenly, at about half-past 
nine o'clock in the evening, a strong force of police broke 
into the office, seized the books, manuscripts, papers 
and forms of type, and bore them off to the Castle 
yard. At the same time arrests of the chief Fenian 
leaders were being made in various parts of the city. The 
news created intense excitement in all circles of society, 
and more especially amongst the Fenians themselves, who 
had never dreamed of a government coup so sudden, so 
lawless, and so effective. The government had now 
thrown off the mask of apathy and impassiveness which 
it had worn so long, and it commenced to lay its strong 
hand upon its foes. Amongst the men w T ho filled the 
prison cells on that miserable autumn evening were John 
O'Leary, Thomas Clarke Luby, and Jeremiah O'Donovan 
(Rossa). Before the Crown was ready to proceed with 
their trial, the third editor of the paper, Charles J. 
Kickham, was added to their company, having been ar- 
rested with James Stephens, Edward Duffy, and Hugh 
Brophy, on the 11th November, at Fairfield House, near 
Dublin. 

On Monday, November 27th, 1865, the state trials 
commenced before a Special Commission in the court- 
house, Green-street — the scene of so many a previous 
grapple between British law and the spirit of Irish pa- 
triotism. Mr. Justice Keogh and Mr. Justice Fitzgerald 
were the presiding judges. There was a long list of 
prisoners to be tried. James Stephens might have been 
honored with the first place amongst them, were it not 
that, two days previously, to the unspeakable horror and 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 163 

surprise of the government and all its friends, he had 
effected his escape, or rather, we might say, obtained, 
by the aid of friendly hands, his release from Richmond 
prison. In his regretted absence, the crown commenced 
their proceedings, by placing Thomas Clarke Luby in the 
dock to answer to a charge of treason-felony. 

He stood up to the bar, between the jailors that clus- 
tered about him, a quiet-faced, pale, and somewhat sad- 
looking man, apparently of about forty years of age. A 
glance around the court-house showed him but few 
friendly faces — for, owing to the terrors felt by the. 
judges, the crown prosecutors and other officials of the 
law, who dreaded the desperate resolves of armed con- 
spirators, few were admitted into the building except 
policemen, detectives, and servants of the Crown in one 
capacity or another. In one of the galleries, however, 
he recognized his wife — daughter of J. De Jean Fraser, 
one of the sweetest poets of the ; 4S period — with the 
wife of his fellow-prisoner, O'Donovan Rossa, and the 
sister of John O'Leary. A brief smile of greeting passed 
between the party, and then all thoughts were concen- 
trated on the stern business of the day. 

There was no chance of escape for Thomas Clarke 
Luby or for his associates. The Crown had a plethora 
of evidence against them, acquired during the months 
and years when they appeared to be all but totally ig- 
norant of the existence of the conspiracy. They had the 
evidence of the approver, Nagle, who had been an em- 
ploye of the Irish People office and a confidential agent 
of James Stephens up to the night of the arrests, but who, 
during the previous eighteen months, had been betraying 
every secret of theirs to the government. They had the 
evidence of a whole army of detectives ; but more crush- 
ing and fatal than all, they had that which was supplied 
by the immense store of documents captured at the Irish 
People office and the houses of some of the chief mem- 
bers of the conspiracy. Of all those papers, the most 
important was one found at the residence of Mr. Luby, 
in which James Stephens, being at the time about to 
visit America, delegated his powers over the organization 



1G4 SPEECHES FEOM THE DOCK. 

in Ireland, England, and Scotland, to Thomas Clarke 
Luby, John O'Leary, and Charles J. Kickham. This, 
which was referred to during the trials as the "executive 
document," was worded as follows: — 

"I hereby empower Thomas Clarke Luby, John O'Leary and 
Charles J. Kickham a committee of organization, or executive, 
with the same supreme control over the home organization, Eng- 
land, Ireland, and Scotland, as that exei-cised by myself. I further 
empower them to appoint, a committee of military inspection, and 
a committee of appeal and judgment, the functions of which com- 
mittee will be made known to every member of them. Trusting 
to the patriotism and abilities of the executive, I fully endorse 
their actions beforehand. I call on every man in our ranks to sup- 
port and be guided by them in all that concerns the military 
brotherhood. 

"J. STEPHENS." 

Not all the legal ingenuity and forensic eloquence of 
their talented counsel, Mr. Butt, could avail to save the 
men who, by the preservation of such documents as the 
foregoing, had fastened the fetters on their own limbs. 
The trial of Mr. Luby concluded on the fourth day of 
the proceedings — Friday, December 1st, 1865 — with a 
verdict of guilty. The prisoner heard the announcement 
with composure, and then, in response to the question 
usual in such cases, addressed the court as follows: — 

"Well, my lords and gentlemen, I don't think any person pre- 
sent here is surprised at the verdict found against me. I have been 
prepared for this verdict ever since I was arrested, although I 
thought, it my duty to fight the British government inch by inch. 
I felt I was sure to be found guilty, since the advisers of the 
Crown took what the Attorney-General was pleased the other day 
to call the 'merciful course.' I thought I might have a fair chance 
of escaping, so long as the capital charge was impending over me ; 
but when they resolved on trying me under the Treason-Felony 
Act, I felt that I had not the smallest chance. I am somewhat 
embarrassed at the present moment as to what I should say under 
the circumstances. There are a great many things that I would 
wish to say; but knowing that there are other persons in the same 
situation with myself, and that I might allow myself to say 
something injudicious, which would peril their cases, I feel that 
my tongue is to a great degree tied. Notwithstanding, there are 
two or three points upon which I would say a few words. I have 
nothing to say to Judge Keogh's charge to the jury. He did not 
take up any of the topics that had been introduced to prejudice 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 165 

the case against me ; for instance, he did not take this accusation 
of an intention to assassinate, attributed to my fellow- prisoners 
and myself. The Solicitor-General, in his reply to Mr. Butt, re- 
ferred to those topics. Mr. Barry was the first person who ad- 
vanced those charges. I thought they were partially given up by 
the Attorney-General in his opening statement, at least they were 
put forward to you in a very modified form; but the learned 
Solicitor-General, in his very virulent speech, put forward those 
charges in a most 1 aggravated manner. He sought even to exag- 
gerate upon Mr. Barry's original statement. Now, with respect to 
those charges — injustice to my character — I must say that in this 
court there is not a man more incapable of anything like massacre 
or assassination than I am. I really believe that the gentlemen 
who have shown so much ability in persecuting me, in the bottom 
of their hearts believe me incapable of an act of assassination or 
massacre. I don't see that there is the smallest amount of evi- 
dence to show that I ever entertained the notion of a massacre of 
landlords and priests. I forget whether the advisers of the crown 
said I intended the massacre of the Protestant clergymen. Some 
of the writers of our enlightened press said that I did. Now, with 
respect to the charge of assassinating the landlords, the only thing 
that gives even the shadow of a color to that charge is the letter 
signed— alleged to be signed — by Mr. O'Keefe. Now, assuming — 
but by no means admitting, of course — that the letter was written 
by Mr. O'Keefe, let me make a statement about it. I know the 
facts that I am about to state are of no practical utility to me now. 
at least with respect to the judges. I know it is of no practical 
utility to me, because I cannot give evidence on my own behalf, 
but it may be of practical utility to others with whom I wish to 
stand well. I believe my words will carry conviction — and carry 
much more conviction than any words of the legal advisers 
of the Crown can — to more than 300,000 of the Irish race in Ire- 
land, England, and America. Well, I deny absolutely that I 
ever entertained any idea of assassinating the landlords, and the 
letter of Mr. O'Keefe — assuming it to be his letter — is the only 
evidence on the subject. My acquaintance with Mr. O'Keefe was 
of the slightest nature. I did not even know of his existence when 
the Irish People was started. He came, after that paper was 
established a few months, to the office, and offered some articles — 
some were rejected, some were inserted, and I call the attention of 
the legal advisers of the Crown to this fact, that, amongst the papers 
which they got, those that were Mr. O'Keefe's articles had many 
paragraphs scored out ; in fact we put in no article of his without 
a great deal of what is technically called 'cutting down.' Now, 
that letter of his to me was simply a private document. It con- 
tained the mere private views of the writer; and I pledge this to 
the court as a man of honor — and I believe in spite of the posi- 
tion in which 1 stand, amongst my countrymen I am believed to 
be a man of honor, and that, if my life depended on it, I would 
not speak falsely about the thing— when I read that letter, and the 



166 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

first to whom I gave it was my wife — I remember we read it with, 
fits of laughter at its ridiculous ideas. My wife at the moment 
said — ' Had I not better burn the letter f ' ' Oh, no,' I said, 
looking upon it as a most ridiculous thing, and never dreaming 
for a moment that such a document would ever turn up against 
me, and produce the unpleasant consequences it has produced — 
I mean the imputation of assassination and massacre, which has 
given me a great deal more trouble than anything else in this case. 
That disposes — as far as I- can at present dispose of it — of the 
charge of wishing to assassinate the landlords. As to the charge 
of desiring to assassinate the priests, I deny it as being the most 
monstrous thing in the world. Why, surely, every one who read 
the articles in the paper would see that the plain doctrine laid 
down there was — to reverence the priests so long as they confined 
themselves to their sacerdotal functions; but when the priest de- 
scended to the arena of politics, he became no more than any other 
man, and would just be regarded as any other man. If he was a 
man of ability and honesty, of course he would get the respect that 
such men get in politics ; if he was not a man of ability, there 
would be no more thought of him than of a shoemaker or any one 
else. This is the teaching of the Irish People with regard to the 
priests. I believe the Irish People has done a great deal of good, 
even amongst those who do not believe in its revolutionary 
doctrines. I believe the revolutionary doctrines of the Irish People 
are good. I believe nothing can ever save Ireland except inde- 
pendence ; and I believe that all other attempts to ameliorate the 
condition of Ireland are mere temporary expedients and make- 
shifts " 

Mr. Justice Keogh : — " I am very reluctant to interrupt you, Mr. 
Luby." 

Mr. Luby: — " Very well, my lord, I will leave that. I believe 
in this way the Irish People has done an immensity of good. It 
taught the people not to give up their right of private judgment 
in temporal matters to the clergy ; that, while they reverenced the 
clergy upon the altar, they should not give up their consciences 
in secular matters to the clergy. I believe that is good. Others 
may differ from me. No set of men, I believe, ever set themselves 
earnestly to any work, but they did good in some shape or form." 

Judge Keogh: — "lam most reluctant, Mr. Luby, to interrupt 
you, but do you think you should pursue this?" 

Mr. Luby: — "Very well, I will not. I think that disposes of 
those things. I don't care to say much about myself. It would be 
rather beneath me. Perhaps some persons who know me would say 
I should not have touched upon the assassination charge at all- - 
that, in fact, I have rather shown weakness in attaching so much 
importance to it. But, with regard to the entire course of my life— 
and whether it be a mistaken course or not will be for every man's 
individual judgment to decide — this I know, that no man ever loved 
Ireland more than I have done — no man has ever given up his 
whole being to Ireland to the extent I have done. From the time 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 167 

I came to what has been called the years of discretion, my entire 
thought has been devoted to Ireland. I believed the course I pur- 
sued was right; others may take a different view. I believe the 
majority of my countrymen this minute, if, instead of my being 
tried before a petty jury, who. I suppose, are bound to find accord- 
ing to British law — if my guilt or innocence was to be tried by the 
higher standard of eternal right, and the case was put to all my 
countrymen — I believe this moment the majority of my country- 
men would pronounce that I am not a criminal, but that I have 
deserved well of my country. When the proceedings of this trial 
go forth into the world, peop'e will say the cause of Ireland is not 
to be despaired of, that Ireland is not yet a lost country — that, as 
long as there are men in any country prepared to expose themselves' 
to every difficulty and danger in its service, prepared to brave cap- 
tivity, even death itself, if need be, that country cannot be lost. 
With these words I conclude." 

On the conclusion of this address, Judge Keogh pro- 
ceeded to pass sentence on the prisoner. The prisoner's 
speech, he said, was in every way creditable to him ; 
but the bench could not avoid coming- to the conclusion 
that, with the exception of James Stephens, he was the 
person most deeply implicated in the conspiracy. The 
sentence of the court was, that he be kept in penal servi- 
tude for a term of twenty years. Mr. Luby beard the 
words without any apparent emotion — gave one sad fare- 
well glance to his wife and friends, and stepping down 
the little stairs from the dock, made way for the next 
prisoner. 



16S SPEECHES FR01I THE DOCK. 



JOHN O'LEARY. 

While the jury in the case of Thomas Clarke Luby were 
absent from the court deliberating on and framing their 
verdict, John O'Leary was put forward to the bar. 

He stepped boldly to the front, with a flash of fire in 
his dark eyes, and a scowl on his features, looking 
hatred and defiance on judges, lawyers, jurymen, and 
all the rest of them. All eyes were fixed on him, for he 
was one of those persons whose exterior attracts atten- 
tion, and indicates a character above the common. He 
was tall, slightly built, and of gentlemanly deportment j 
every feature of his thin, angular face gave token of great 
intellectual energy and determination, and its pallid hue 
was rendered almost deathlike by contrast with his long 
black hair and flowing moustache and beard. Easy it 
was to see that, when the government placed John 
O'Leary in the dock, they had caged a proud spirit, and 
an able and resolute enemy. He had come of a patriot 
stock, and from a part of Ireland where rebels to 
English rule were never either few or faint-hearted. He 
was born in the town of Tipperary, of parents whose 
circumstances were comfortable, and who, at the time of 
their decease, left him in possession of property worth a 
couple of hundred pounds per annum. He was educated 
for the medical profession in the Queen's College, Cork, 
spent some time in France, and subsequently visited 
America, where he made the acquaintance of the chief 
organizers of the Fenian movement, by whom he was 
regarded as a most valuable acquisition to the ranks of 
the Brotherhood. After his return to Ireland he con- 
tinued to render the Fenian cause such services as lay in 
his power; and when James Stephens, who knew his 
courage and ability, invited him to take the post of chief 
editor of the Fenian organ which he was about to estab- 
lish in Dublin, O'Leary readily obeyed the call, and 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 169 

accepted the dangerous position. In the columns of the 
Irish People he labored hard to defend and extend the 
principles of the Fenian organization until the date of 
his arrest and the suppression of the paper. 

The trial lasted from Friday, the 1st, up to Wednesday, 
the 6th of December, when it was closed with a verdict 
of guilty and a sentence of twenty years' penal servitude 
— Mr. Justice Fitzgerald remarking that no distinction 
in the degree of criminality could be discovered between 
the case of the prisoner and that of the previous convict. 
The following is the address delivered by O'Leary, who 
appeared to labor under much excitement, when asked 
in the usual terms if he had any reason to show why 
sentence should not be passed upon him : — 

"I was not wholly unprepared for this verdict, because I felt 
that the government which could so safely pack the bench could 
not fail to make sure of its verdict." 

Mr. Justice Fitzgerald : — " We are willing to hear anything in 
reason from you, but we cannot allow language of that kind to be 
used." 

Mr. O'Leary: — "My friend, Mr. Luby, did not wish to touch on 
this matter from a natural fear lest he should do any hann to the 
other political prisoners ; but there can be but little fear of that 
now, for a jury has been found to convict me of this conspiracy 
upon the evidence. Mr. Luby admitted that he was technically 
guilty according to British law ; but I say that it is only by the 
most torturing interpretation that these men could make out their 
case against me. With reference to this conspiracy there has been 
much misapprehension in Ireland, and serious misapprehension. 
Mr. Justice K'eogh said, in his charge against Mr. Luby, that men 
would be always found ready for money, or for some other motive, 
to place themselves at the disposal of the government; but I think 
the men who have been generally bought in this way, and who 
certainly made the best of the bargain, were agitators and not 
rebels. I have to say one word in reference to the foul charge upon 
which that miserable man, Barry, has made me responsible." 

Mr. Justice Fitzgerald: — " We cannot allow that tone of observa- 
tion." 

Mr. O'Leary continued: — "That man has charged me — I need 
not defend myself or my friends from the charge. I shall merely 
denounce the moral assassin. Mr. Justice Keogh the other day 
spoke of revolutions, and administei'ed a lecture to Mr. Luby. He 
spoke of cattle being driven away, and of houses being burned 
down, that men would be killed, and so on. 1 would like to know 
if all that does not apply to war as well as to involution? One 



170 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



word more, and I shall have done. I have been found guilty of 
treason or treason-felony. Treason is a foul crime. The poet 
Dante consigned traitors to, I believe, the ninth circle of hell ; but 
what kind of traitors? Traitors against king, against country, 
against friends and benefactors. England is not my country ; I 
have betrayed no friend, no benefactor. Sidney and Emmet were 
legal traitors, Jeffreys was a loyal man, and so was Norbury. I 
leave the matter there." 



One hour after the utterance of these words John 
O'Leary, dressed in convict garb, his hair clipped, and 
his beard shaved off, was the occupant of a cell in 
Mountjoy prison, commencing his long term of suffering 
in expiation of the crime of having sought to obtain self- 
government for his native land. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 171 



JEREMIAH O'DONOVAN (ROSSA). 

In one of the preceding pages we have mentioned the 
fact that at the Cork Summer Assizes of 1859, a con- 
viction was recorded against Jeremiah O'Donovan (Rossa) 
for his complicity in the Phoenix conspiracy, and he was 
then released on the understanding that, if he should be 
found engaging in similar practices, the Crown would 
bring him up for judgment. It is characteristic of the 
man that, with this conviction hanging like a millstone 
about his neck, he did not hesitate to take an active and 
an open part with the promoters of the Fenian move- 
ment. He travelled through various parts of Ireland in 
furtherance of the objects of the society ) he visited 
America on the same mission, and, when the Irish People 
was started, he took the position of business manager in 
that fore-doomed establishment. 

He was brought into the dock immediately after John 
O'Leary had been taken from it; but on representing 
that certain documents which he had not then at hand 
were necessary for his defence, he obtained a postpone- 
ment of his trial for a few days. When he was again 
brought up for trial, he intimated to the court that he 
meant to conduct his own defence. And he entered upon 
it immediately. He cross-examined the informers in 
fierce fashion, he badgered the detectives, he questioned 
the police, he debated with the crown-lawyers, he argued 
with the judges, he fought with the crown side all round. 
But it was when the last of the witnesses had gone off 
the table that he set to work in good earnest. He 
took up the various publications that had been put in 
evidence against him, and claimed his legal right to read 
them all through. One of them was the file of the Irish 
People for the whole term of its existence ! Horror sat 
upon the faces of judges, jurymen, sheriffs, lawyers, 
turnkeys, and all, when the prisoner gravely informed 



172 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

them that, as a compromise, he would not insist upon 
reading the advertisements ! The bench were unable to 
deny that the prisoner was entitled to read, if not the 
entire, at any rate a great portion of the volume, and 
O'Donovan then applied himself to the task, selecting his 
readings more especially from those articles in which the 
political career of Mr. Justice Keogh was made the sub- 
ject of animadversion. Right on he read, his lordship 
striving to look as composed and indifferent as possible, 
while every word of the bitter satire and fierce invective 
written against him by Luby and O'Leary was being 
launched at his heart. When articles of that class were 
exhausted, the prisoner turned to the most treasonable 
and seditious documents he could find, and commenced 
the reading of them, but the judges interposed ; he 
claimed to be allowed to read a certain article— Judge 
Keogh objected — he proposed to read another — that was 
objected to also — he commenced to read another — he 
was stopped — he tried another — again Judge Keogh was 
down on him — then another — and he fared no better. 
So the fight went on throughout the livelong day, till 
the usual hour of adjournment had come and gone, and 
the prisoner himself was feeling parched, and weary, and 
exhausted. Observing that the lights were beinof now 
renewed, and that their lordships appeared satisfied to 
sit out the night, he anxiously inquired if the proceedings 
were not to be adjourned till morning. " Proceed, sir," 
was the stern reply of the judge, who knew that the 
physical powers of the prisoner could not hold out much 
longer. "A regular Norbury," gasped O'Donovan. 
"It's like a ? 98 trial." "You had better proceed, sir, 
with propriety," exclaimed the judge. "When do you 
propose stopping, my lord f again inquired the prisoner. 
"Proceed, sir," was the reiterated reply. O'Donovan 
could stand it no longer, He had been reading and 
speaking for eight hours and a half. With one final 
protest against the arrangement by which Judge Keogh 
was sent to try the cases of men who had written and pub- 
lished such articles against him, he sat down, exclaiming 
that " English law might now take its course." 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 173 

Next day the jury handed down their verdict of guilty. 
The Attorney-General then addressed the court, and 
referred to the previous conviction against the prisoner. 
O'Donovan was asked what he had to say in reference 
to that part of the case j and his reply was, that " the 
government might add as much as they pleased to the 
term of his sentence on that account, if it was any satis- 
faction to them." And when the like question was put 
to him regarding the present charge, he said : — 

"With the fact that the government seized papers connected with 
my defence and examined them — with the fact that they packed 
the jury — with the fact that the government stated they would con- 
vict — with the fact that they sent Judge Keogh, a second Norbury, 
to try me — with these facts before me, it would be useless to say 
anything." 

Judge Keogh proceeded to pass sentence. " The pris- 
oner," he said, " had entertained those criminal designs 
since the year 1859 f whereupon O'Donovan broke in 
with the remark that he was " an Irishman since he was 
born." The judge said, " he would not waste words by 
trying to bring him to a sense of his guilt ; " O'Donovan's 
reply was — " It would be useless for you to try it." The 
judge told him his sentence was, that he be kept in penal 
servitude for the term of his natural life. " All right, 
my lord," exclaimed the unconquerable rebel, and with a 
smile to the sympathizing group around him, he walked 
with a light step from the dock. 

The court was then adjourned to the 5th of January, 
1866 j and next day the judges set off for Cork city, to dis- 
pose of the Fenian prisoners there awiting trial. 



174 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



BRYAN DILLON, JOHN LYNCH, AND OTHERS. 

On Wednesday, December 16th, the trial of O'Donovan 
(Rossa) was brought to a conclusion in Dublin. Next 
morning, away went judges, crown lawyers, spies, detec- 
tives, and informers, for the good city of Cork, where 
another batch of men accused of conspiring against 
British rule in Ireland — " the old crime of their race" — 
were awaiting the pronouncement of British law upon 
their several cases. Cork city in these days was known 
to be one of the foci of disaffection • perhaps it was its 
chief stronghold. The metropolis may have given an abso- 
lutely larger number of members to the Fenian organiza- 
tion, but, in proportion to the number of its population, 
the southern city was far more deeply involved in the 
movement. In Dublin, the seat of British rule in Ireland, 
many influences, which are but faintly represented in 
other parts of the country, are present and active to re- 
press the national ardor of the people. Those influences 
are scarcely felt in the city of Saint Finbar. Not in 
Ireland is there a town in which the national sentiment is 
stronger or more widely diffused than in Cork. The citi- 
zens are a warm-hearted, quick-witted and high-spirited 
race, gifted with fine moral qualities, and profoundly at- 
tached to the national faith in religion and politics. 
Merchants, traders, professional men, shopkeepers, arti- 
sans, and all, are comparatively free from the spells of 
Dublin Castle, and the result is visible in their conduct. 
The Crown looks dubiously and anxiously upon a Cork 
jury • the patriot, when any work for Ireland is in hand, 
looks hopefully to the Cork people. The leaders of the 
Fenian movement thoroughly understood these facts, 
and devoted much of their time and attention to the pro- 
pagation of their society among men so well inclined to 
welcome it. Their labors, if labors they could be called, 
were rewarded with a great measure of success. The 



SPEECHES EEOM THE DOCK. 175 

young men of Cork turned into the organization by hun- 
dreds. There was no denying the fact j every one knew 
it; evidences of it were to be seen on all sides. The 
hope that was filling their hearts revealed itself in a thou- 
sand ways : in their marchings, their meetings, their 
songs, their music. The loyal party in the neighbor- 
hood grew alarmed, and the government shared their ap- 
prehensions. At the time of which we write, the opinion 
of the local magistracy, and that of the authorities at Dub- 
lin Castle, was, that Cork was a full-charged mine of 
" treason." 

Thither was the Commission now sped, to carry terror, 
if the " strong arm of the law" could do it, into the 
hearts of those conspirators "against the royal name, 
style, and dignity " of her Majesty, Queen Victoria. ' As 
no one in the Castle could say to what desperate expe- 
dients those people might have recourse, it was thought 
advisable to take extraordinary precautions to insure 
the safety of the train which carried those important per- 
sonages, her Majesty's judges, lawyers, witnesses, and in- 
formers, through the Munster counties, and on to the 
city by the Lee. "Never before," writes the special 
correspondent of the Nation, " had such a sight been 
witnessed on an Irish railway as that presented on Thurs- 
day along the line between Dublin and Cork. Armed 
sentries paced each mile of the railway ; the platforms of 
the various stations through which the trains passed were 
lined with bodies of constabulary, and the bridges and 
viaducts on the way were guarded by a force of military, 
whose crimson coats and bright accoutrements stood out 
in bold relief from the dark ground on which they were 
stationed, against the grey December sky. As a further 
measure of precaution, a pilot engine steamed in advance of 
the train in which their lordships sat, one carriage of which 
was filled with armed police. And so, in some such manner 
as Grant or Sheridan might have journeyed along the 
Petersburg and Lynchburg railway while the flag of the 
Confederacy floated in .Richmond, the two judges travelled 
down in safety to the headquarters of Fenianism in 
Munster." 



176 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

Immediately on their arrival in Cork, the judges pro- 
ceeded to the court-house and formally opened the busi- 
ness of the Commission. Next day Charles Underwood 
O'Connell and John M'AfTerty were placed in the dock. 
These two men belonged to a class which formed the hope 
of the Fenian organization, and which the government 
regarded as one of the most dangerous elements of the 
conspiracy. They were Irish-American soldiers, trained 
to war, and inured to the hardships of campaigning in 
the great struggle which had but recently closed in 
America. They were a sample of the thousands of Irish- 
men who had acquired in that practical school the mili- 
tary knowledge which they knew was needed for the effi- 
cient direction of an insurrectionary movement in Ireland, 
and who were now burning for the time and opportunity 
to turn that knowledge to account. It was known that 
many of these men were, as quietly and secretly as might 
be, dropping into Queenstown as steamer after steamer ar- 
rived from the Land of the West, and were moving about 
through the southern counties, inspiriting the hearts of 
the Brotherhood by their presence and their promises, and 
imparting to them as much military instruction as was possi- 
ble under the circumstances. To hunt down these " foreign 
emissaries," as the crown lawyers and the loyal prints 
were pleased to call them, and to deter others from fol- 
lowing in their footsteps, was naturally a great object 
■with the government; and when they placed Charles 
Underwood O'Connell and John M'Afferty in the dock, 
they felt they had made a good beginning. And these 
were representative men in their way. " It was a strange 
fate," says the writer from whom we have already quoted, 
a which had brought these men together in a felon's 
dock. They had been born in different lands — they had 
been reared thousands of miles apart — and they had 
fought and won distinction under different flags, and on 
opposing sides, in the American w T ar. M'Afferty, born of 
Irish parents in Ohio, won his spurs in the Confederate 
army. O'Connell, who emigrated from Cork little more 
than two years ago, after the ruin of his family by a cruel 
act of confiscation and eviction, fought under the Stars 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 177 

and Stripes, and, like M'Afferty, obtained a captain's 
commission as the reward of his services. Had they 
crossed each other's path two years ago, they would pro- 
bably have fought a la mort ; but the old traditions, which 
linger in spite of every circumstance in the hearts of 
Irishmen, were strong in both, and the cause of Ireland 
united them, only, alas ! that they might each of them 
pay the cost of their honest, if imprudent, enthusiasm, by 
sharing the same prison in Ireland, and falling within the 
grasp of the government which they looked on as the op- 
pressor of their fatherland." 

M'Afferty, however, was not fated to suffer on that occa- 
sion. Proof of his foreign birth having been adduced, the 
court held that his arrest on board the steamer in Queens- 
town harbor, when he had committed no overt act evi- 
dencing a treasonable intent, was illegal, and his trial was 
abandoned. The trial of Underwood O'Connell was then 
postponed for a few days, and two men, reputed to be 
" Centres " of the organization in Cork, were brought to 
the bar. 

They were Bryan Dillon and John Lynch. Physically, 
they presented a contrast to the firm-built and wiry sol- 
diers who had just quitted the dock. Dillon was afflicted 
with curvature of the spine, the result of an accident in 
early life ,* and his companion was far gone in that blight- 
ing and fatal disease, consumption. But, though they 
were not men for the toils of campaigning, for the moun- 
tain march, and the bivouac, and the thundering charge 
of battle, they had hearts full of enthusiasm for the 
cause in which they were engaged, and heads that 
could think, and plot, and plan, for its advancement. 

We need not here go through the sad details of their 
trials. Our purpose is to bring before our readers the 
courage and the constancy of the martyrs to the cause of 
Irish nationality, and to record the words in which they 
gave expression to the patriotic sentiments that inspired 
them. It is, however, to be recollected that many of the 
accused at these commissions — men as earnest, as honest, 
and as devoted to the cause of their country as any that 
ever lived — made no such addresses from the dock as we 



178 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

can include in this volume. All men are not orators ; and 
it will often occur that one who has been tried for life and 
liberty in a British court of law, on the evidence of spies 
and informers, will have much to press upon his mind, 
and many things more directly relevant to the trial than 
any profession of political faith would be, to say, when 
called upon, to show reason why sentence should not be 
passed upon him. The evidence adduced in these cases 
is usually a compound of truth and falsehood. Some of 
the untruths sworn to are simply blunders, resulting from 
the confused impressions and the defective memory of the 
witnesses; others are deliberate inventions, made, sworn 
to, backed up, and persevered in, for the purpose of in- 
suring a successful result for the prosecution. Naturally 
the first impulse of the accused, when he is allowed to 
speak for himself, is to refer to these murderous falsehoods ; 
and, in the excitement and trouble of those critical mo- 
ments, it is all that some men can venture to do. Such 
criticisms of the prosecution are often valuable to the 
prisoner from a moral point of view, but rarely have they 
any influence upon the result of the trial. All things 
considered, it must be allowed that they act best who do 
not forget to speak the words of patriotism, according to 
the measure of their abilities, before the judge's fiat has 
sealed their lips, and the hand of British law has swept 
them away to the dungeon or the scaffold. 

" Guilty ; ' was the verdict returned by the jury against 
Bryan Dillon and John Lynch. The evidence against 
them, indeed, was strong, but. its chief strength lay in the 
swearing of an approver named Warner, a callous and 
unscrupulous wretch, from whose mind the* idea of con- 
science seemed to have perished utterly. If there was 
any check upon the testimony of this- depraved creature, 
it existed only in some prudential instinct, suggesting to 
him that, even in such cases as these, a witness might pos- 
sibly overdo his work j and perhaps in a caution or two 
given him in a private and confidential manner by some 
of the managers of the prosecution. Warner's evidence 
in this case was conclusive to the minds of all who chose 
to believe it; and therefore it was that those prisoners 



SPEECHES EROM THE DOCK. 179 

had not long been occupants of the dock when the ques- 
tion was put to them what they had to say why sentence 
should not be passed on them. In reply, Bryan Dillon 
said : — 

"My lords, I never was for one minute in Warner's company. 
"What Warner swore about me was totally untrue. I never was at 
a meeting at Geary's bouse. The existence of the Fenian organiza- 
tion has been proved sufficiently to your lordships. I was a Centre 
in that organization ; but it does not follow that I had to take the 
chair at any meeting, as it was a military organization. I do not 
want to conceal anything. Warner had no connection with me 
whatever. With respect to the observation of the Attorney-Gen- 
eral, which pained me very much, that it was intended to seize 
property, it does not follow because of my social station that I in- 
tended to seize the property of others. My belief in the ultimate 
independence of Ireland is as fixed as my religious belief " 

At this point he was interrupted by Judge Keogh, 
who declared he could not listen to words that were, in 
fact, a repetition of the prisoner's offence. But it was 
only words of this kind that Bryan Dillon cared to say 
at the time; and as the privilege of offering some re- 
marks in defence of his political opinions — a privilege ac- 
corded to all prisoners in trials for treason and treason- 
felony up to that time — had been denied to him, he chose 
to say no more. And then the judge pronounced the 
penalty of his offending, which was, penal servitude for a 
term of ten years. 

John Lynch's turn to speak came next. Interrogated 
in the usual form, he stood forward, raised his feeble frame 
to its full height, and with a proud, grave smile upon his 
pallid features, he thus addressed the court : — 

" I will say a very few words, my lords. I know it would be 
only a waste of public time if I entered into anye xplanations of 
my political opinions — opinions which I know are shared by the 
vast majority of my fellow-countrymen. Standing her« as I do 
will be to them the surest proof of my sincerity and honesty. 
With reference to the statement of Warner, all I "have to say is, 
and I say it honestly and solemnly, that I never attended a meet- 
ing at Geary's, that I never exercised with a rifle there, that I 
never learned the use of the rifle, nor did any of the other things 
he swore to. With respect to my opinions on British rule in this 
country — " 



ISO SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

Mr. Justice Keogh: — "We can't hear that." 

The Prisoner: — "All I have to say is, that I was not at Geary's 
house for four or five months before my arrest, so that Warner's 
statement is untrue. If, having served my country honestly and 
sincerely be treason, I am not ashamed of it. I am now prepared 
to receive any punishment British law can inflict on me." 

The punishment decreed to this pure-minded and 
brave-spirited patriot was ten years of penal servitude. 
But to him it was practically a sentence of death. The 
rigors and horrors of prison life were more than his fail- 
ing constitution could long endure j and but a few months 
from the date of his conviction ^lapsed when his country- 
men were pained by the intelligence that the faithful- 
hearted John Lvnch filled a nameless grave in an English 
prison-yard. He died in the hospital of Woking prison 
on the 2d day of June, 1866. 

When Bryan Dillon and John Lynch were removed 
from the dock (Tuesday, December 19th), two men 
named Jeremiah Donovan and John Duggan were put 
forward, the former charged with having been a Centre 
in the Fenian organization, and the latter with having 
sworn some soldiers into the society. Both were found 
guilty. Donovan made no remarks when called upon 
for what he had to say. Duggan contradicted the evi- 
dence of the witnesses on several points, and said : — 

" I do not state those things in order to change the sentence I 
am about to receive. I know your lordships' minds are made up 
on that. I" state this merely to show what kind of tools the British 
government employ to procure those convictions. I have only to 
say, and I appeal to any intelligent man for his opinion, that the 
manner in which the jury list was made out for these trials clearly 
shows that in this country political trials are a mere mockery." 

At this point the judge cut short the prisoner's ad- 
dress, and the two men were sentenced, Donovan to 
five years and Duggan to ten years of penal servitude. 

The trial of Underwood O'Connell was then proceeded 
with. It concluded on December 21st, with a verdict of 
guilty. In response to the question which was then ad- 
dressed to him, he spoke at considerable length, detailing 
the manner of his arrest, complaining of the horrible 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 1S1 

indignities to which he had been subjected in prison, and 
asserting that he had not received a fair and impartial 
trial. He spoke amidst a running fire of interruptions 
from the court, and, when he came to refer to his politi- 
cal opinions, his discourse was peremptorily suppressed. 
" The sentiments and hopes that animate me," he said, 
"are well known." " Really we will not hear those ob- 
servations," interposed Mr. Justice Keogh. " It has 
been brought forward here," said the prisoner, u that 
I held a commission in the 99th regiment — in Colonel 
O'Mahony's regiment. Proud as I am of having held a 
commission in the United States service, I am equally 

proud of holding command under a man " Here his 

speech was stopped by the judges, and Mr. Justice 
Keogh proceeded to pass sentence. In the course of his 
address his lordship made the following observations : — 

" You, it appears, went to America ; you entered yourself in the 
American army, thus violating, to a certain extent, your allegiance 
as a British subject. But that is not the offence you are charged 
with here to day. You say you swore allegiance to the American 
Republic, but no man, by so doing, can relieve himself from his 
allegiance to the British Crown. From the moment a man is born 
in this country he owes allegiance, he is a subject." 

Hearing these words, and remembering the great 
outcry that was being made by the friends of the govern- 
ment against the Irish-American Fenians on the ground 
that they were " foreigners," the prisoner interposed the 
apt remark on his lordship's legal theory : — 

" If that is so, why am I charged with bringing over foreigners? 
John O'Mahony is no foreigner." 

To that remark Jud^e Keo^-h did not choose to make 
any reply. It overturned him completely. Nothing 
could better exhibit the absurdity of railing against those 
Irishmen as " foreigners " in one breath, and in the next 
declaring their allegiance to the British Crown perpetual 
and inalienable. His lordship may have winced as 
the point was so quickly and neatly brought home to 
him j but at all events he went on with his address, and 



182 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

informed the prisoner that his punishment was to be ten 
years of penal servitude. Upon which, the comment of 
the prisoner as he quitted the dock was, that he hoped 
there would be an exchange of prisoners before that 
time. 

In quick succession four men named Casey, Regan, 
Hayes, and Barry, were tried, convicted, and sentenced. 
Each in turn impugned the evidence of the informer 
Warner, protested against the constitution of the juries, 
and attempted to say a few words declaratory of their 
devotioa to the cause of Ireland. But the judges were 
quick to suppress every attempt of this kind, and only 
a few fragments of sentences are on record to indicate 
the thoughts to which these soldiers of liberty would 
have given expression if the opportunity had not been 
denied to them. 

John Kennealy was the next occupant of the dock. 
He was a young man of high personal character, and of 
great intelligence, and was a most useful member of the 
organization j his calling — that of commercial traveller — 
enabling him to act as agent and missionary of the 
society without attracting to himself the suspicion which 
would be aroused by the movements of other men. In 
his case, also, the verdict was given in the one fatal word. 
And when asked what he had to say for himself, his re- 
ply was in these few forcible and dignified sentences : — 

" My lord, it is scarcely necessary for me to say anything. I am 
sure, from the charge of your lordship, the jury could find no other 
verdict than has been found. The verdict against me has been 
found by the means by which political convictions have always been 
found in this country. As to the informer Warner, I have only to 
say that, directly or indirectly, I never was in the same room with 
him, nor had he any means of knowing my political opinions. As 
to my connection with Mr. Luby, I am proud of that connection. I 
neither regret it, nor anything else I have done, politically or 
otherwise." 

On the conclusion of this trial, on Saturday, January 
2d, 1866, two other cases were postponed without 
option of bail j some other persons were allowed to stand 
out on sureties, and we read that " John M'Afferty and 



SPEECHES FKOM THE DOCK. 183 

William Mackay, being aliens, were admitted to bail on 
their own recognizance, and Judge Keogh said that, if 
they left the country, they would not be required up for 
trial when called." We read, also, in the newspapers of 
that time, that " the prisoners, M'Afferty and Mackay, 
when leaving the courts, were followed by large crowds, 
who cheered them loudly through the streets." 

The Cork Commission was then formally closed, and 
next day the judges set off to resume in Dublin the work 
of trying Irish conspirators against the rule of England 
over their native land. 



184 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



CHARLES JOSEPH KICKHAM. 

In the year 182.5, in the village of Mullinahone, county 
Tipperary, Charles J. Kickham first saw the light. His 
father, John Kickham, was proprietor of the chief 
drapery establishment in that place, and was held 
in high esteem, by the whole country round about, 
for his integrity, intelligence, and patriotic spirit. Dur- 
ing the boyhood of young Kickham the Repeal agi- 
tation was at its height, and he soon became thoroughly 
versed in its arguments, and inspired by its principles, 
which he often heard discussed in his father's shop and by 
his hearth, and amongst all his friends and acquaintances. 
Like all the young people of the time, and a great many 
of the old ones, his sympathies went with the Young 
Ireland party at the time of their withdrawal from the 
Repeal ranks. In 1S48 he was the leading spirit of the 
Confederation Club at Mullinahone, which he was mainly 
instrumental in founding ; and after the fiasco at Ballin- 
garry he was obliged to conceal himself for some time, 
in consequence of the part he had taken in rousing the 
people of bis native village to action. When the excite- 
ment of that period had subsided, he again appeared in 
his father's house, resumed his accustomed sports of 
fishing and fowling, and devoted much of his time to 
literary pursuits, for which he had great natural ca- 
pacity, and towards which he was all the more inclined 
because of the blight put upon his social powers by an 
unfortunate accident which occurred to him when about 
the age of thirteen years. He had brought a flask of 
powder near the fire, and was engaged either in the 
operation of drying it or casting some grains into the 
coals for amusement, when the whole quantity exploded. 
The shock, and the injuries he sustained, nearly proved 
fatal to him ; when he recovered, it was with his hearing 
nearly quite destroyed, and his sight permanently im- 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 185 

paired. But Kickham had the poet's soul within him, 
and it was his compensation for the losses he had sus- 
tained. He could still hold communion with nature and 
with his own mind, and could give to the national cause 
the service of a bold heart and a finely-cultivated intel- 
lect. Subsequent to the decadence of the 7 48 movement 
he wrote a good deal in prose and verse, and contributed 
gratuitously to various national publications. His in- 
timate acquaintance with the character and habits of the 
peasantry gave a great charm to his stories and sketches 
of rural life; and his poems were always marked by 
grace, simplicity, and tenderness. Many of them have 
attained a large degree of popularity amongst his country- 
men in Ireland and elsewhere, and taken a permanent 
place in the poetic literature of the Irish race. Amongst 
these, his ballads entitled " Patrick Sheehan," " E,ory of 
the Hill," and " The Irish Peasant Girl," are deserving 
of special mention. To these remarks it remains to be 
added that, as regards personal character, Charles J. 
Kickham was one of the most amiable of men. He was 
generous and kindly by nature, and was a pious member 
of the Catholic Church, to which his family had given 
priests and nuns. 

Such was the man whom the myrmidons of the law 
placed in the dock of Green-street court-house, when, on 
January 5th, 1866, after the return of the judges from 
Cork, the Commission was reopened in Dublin. His ap- 
pearance was somewhat peculiar. He was a tall, strong, 
rough-bearded man, with that strained expression of face 
which is often worn by people of dim sight. Around his 
neck he wore an india-rubber tube, or ear trumpet, through 
which any words that were necessary to be addressed to 
him were shouted into his ear by some of his friends, or 
by his solicitor. His trial did not occupy much time, 
for, on the refusal of the crown lawyers and judges to 
produce the convict, Thomas Clarke Luby, whom he con- 
ceived to be a material witness for his defence, he di- 
rected his lawyers to abandon the case, and contented 
himself with reading to the court some remarks on the 
evidence which had been offered against him. The 



186 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

chief feature in this address was his denial of all know- 
ledge of the " executive document." He had never seen 
or heard of it until it turned up in connection with those 
trials. Referring to one of the articles with the author- 
ship of which he was charged, he said he wondered how 
any Irishman, taking into consideration what had oc- 
curred in Ireland during the last eighty-four years, could 
hesitate to say to the enemy — " Give us our country to 
ourselves, and let us see what we can do with it." Allud- 
ing to a report that the government contemplated mak- 
ing some concession to the claims of the Catholic bishops, 
he remarked that concessions to Ireland had always been 
a result of Fenianism in one shape or another, and that 
he believed the present manifestation of the national 
spirit would have weight, as former ones had, with the 
rulers of the country. As regards the landed class in 
Ireland, the Irish People, he contended, had said nothing 
more than was said by Thomas Davis, whose works every 
one admired. That eminent Irishman, afflicted and stung 
to the heart by witnessing the system of depopulation 
which was going on throughout the country, had written 
these words : — 

" God of Justice, I sighed, send your Spirit down 

On those lords so cruel and proud, 
And soften their hearts, and relax their frown, 

Or else, I cried aloud, 
Vouchsafe Thy strength to the peasant's hand 
To drive them at length from out the land." 

He had not gone farther than the writer of these lines, 
and now, he said, they might send him to a felon's doom 
if they liked. 

And they did send him to it. Judge Keogh, before 
passing sentence, asked him if he had any further re- 
marks to make in reference to his case. Mr. Kickham 
briefly replied : — 

"I believe, my lords, I have said enough already. I will only 
add that I am convicted for doing nothing but my duty. I have 
endeavored to serve Ireland, and now I am prepared to suffer for 
Ireland." 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 187 

Then the judge, with many expressions of sympathy 
for the prisoner, and many compliments in reference to 
his intellectual attainments, sentenced him to be kept in 
penal servitude for fourteen years. His solicitor, Mr. 
John Lawless, announced the fact to him through his ear 
trumpet. Charles J. Kickham bowed to the judges, and 
with an expression of perfect tranquillity on his features, 
went into captivity. 



18S SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



GENERAL THOMAS F. BURKE 

The year of grace, 1867, dawned upon a cloudy and 
troublous period in Irish politics. There was danger 
brewing throughout the land ; under the crust of society 
the long-confined lava of Fenianism effervesced and 
glowed. There were strange rumors in the air ; strange 
sounds were heard at the death of night on the hillsides 
and in the meadows ; and through the dim moonlight 
masses of men were seen in secluded spots moving in 
regular bodies, and practising military evolutions. From 
castle and mansion and country-seat the spectre of alarm 
glided to and fro, whispering with bloodless lips of com- 
ing convulsions and slaughter, of the opening of the 
crater of revolution, and of a war against property and 
class. Symptoms of danger were everywhere seen and 
felt ; the spirit of disaffection had not been crushed ; it 
rode on the night-wind and glistened against the rising 
sun; it filled rath and fort and crumbling ruin with 
mysterious sounds; it was seen in the brightening eyes 
and the bold demeanor of the peasantry ; in the signals 
passing amongst the people ; in their secret gatherings 
and closely guarded conclaves. For years and years 
Fenianism had been threatening, boasting, and promising, 
and now the fury of the storm, long pent-up, was about 
to burst forth over the land — the hour for action was at 
hand. 

Between the conviction of Luby, O'Leary, and Kick- 
ham, and the period at which we are now arrived, many 
changes of importance had taken place in the Fenian 
organization. In America the society had been revolu- 
tionized — it had found new leaders, new principles, new 
plans of action ; it had passed through the ordeal of war, 
and held its ground amidst flashing swords and the 
smoke of battle ; it had survived the shocks of division, 
disappointment, and failure; treachery, incapacity and 




GENERAL THOMAS F. BURKE. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 1S9 

open hostility had failed to shatter it j and it grew apace 
in strength", influence, aud resources. At home Fenian- 
ism, while losing little in numerical strength, had de- 
clined in effectiveness, in prestige, in discipline, and in 
organization. Its leaders had been swept into the prisons, 
and though men perhaps as resolute stepped forward to 
fill the vacant places, there was a loss in point of capa- 
city and intelligence ; and to the keen observer it became 
apparent that the Fenian Society in Ireland had attained 
to the zenith of its power on the day that the Irish 
People office was sacked by the police. Never again did 
the prospects of Fenianism, whatever they might then 
have been, look equally bright ; and when the Brother- 
hood at length sprang to action, they fought with a 
sword already broken to the hilt, and under circum&tancs 
the most ominous and inauspicious. 

The recent history of the Fenian movement is so 
thoroughly understood that anything like a detailed ac- 
count of its changes and progress is, in these pages, un- 
necessary. We shall only say that, when James Stephens 
arrived in America in May, 1866, after escaping from 
Richmond prison, he found the society in the States 
split up into two opposing parties between whom a vio- 
lent quarrel was raging. John O'Mahony had been 
deposed from his position of " Head Centre " by an all 
but unanimous vote of the Senate, or governing body of 
the association, who charged him and his officials with a 
reckless and corrupt expenditure of the society's funds ; 
and these, in turn, charged the Senate party with the 
crime of breaking up the organization for mere personal 
and party purposes. A large section of the society still 
adhered to O'Mahony, in consideration of his past ser- 
vices in their cause; but the greater portion of it, and 
nearly all its oldest, best-known and most trusted leaders 
gave their allegiance to the Senate and to its elected 
President, William R. Eoberts, an Irish merchant of 
large means, of talent and energy, of high character and 
unquestionable devotion to the cause of his country. 
Many friends of the Brotherhood hoped that James 
Stephens would seek to heal the breach between these 



190 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

parties, but the course lie took was not calculated to 
effect that purpose. He denounced the "senators' 7 in 
the most extravagant terms, and invited both branches 
of the organization to unite under himself as supreme 
and irresponsible leader and governor of the entire move- 
ment. The O'Mahony section did not answer very 
heartily to this invitation ; the Senate party indignantly 
rejected it, and commenced to occupy themselves with 
preparations for an immediate grapple with British power 
in Canada. Those men were thoroughly in earnest; and 
the fact became plain to every intelligence, when, in the 
latter part of May, 1866, the Fenian contingents from 
the various States of the Union began to concentrate on 
the Canadian border. On the morning of the 1st June 
some hundreds of them crossed the Niagara river, and took 
possession of the village of Fort Erie on the Cana- 
dian side. They were soon confronted with detach- 
ments of the volunteer force which had been collected to 
resist the invasion, and at Limestone Ridge they were 
met. by the "Queen's Own" regiment of volunteers from 
Toronto, under the command of Colonel Booker. A 
smart battle ensued, the result of which was that the 
" Queen's Own" were utterly routed by the Irish under 
Colonel John O'Neill, and forced to run in wild confu- 
sion for a town some miles distant, Colonel Booker on 
his charger leading the way and distancing all competi- 
tors. Had the Irish been allowed to follow up this 
victory, it is not unlikely that they would have swept 
Canada clear of the British forces, and then, according to 
their programme, made that country their base of opera- 
tions against British power in Ireland. But the Ameri- 
can government interfered and put an effectual stopper 
on their progress ; they seized the arms of the Irish 
soldiers on the frontier, they sent up large parties of the 
States soldiery to prevent the crossing; of hostile parties 
into British territory, and stationed war-vessels in the 
river for the same purpose. Reinforcements being thus 
cut off from them, the victors of Limestone Ridge found 
themselves under the necessity of recrossing the river 
to the American shore, which they did on the night of 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 191 

the 2d of June, bringing with them the flags and other 
trophies which they had captured from the royal troops. 
The first brush between the Fenian forces and the 
Queen's troops inspired the former with high hopes, and 
with great confidence in their capacity to humble " the 
English red below the Irish green," if only they could 
start on anything like fair terms. But now that the 
American government had forbidden the fight in Canada, 
what was to be done? James Stephens answered that 
question. He would have a fight in Ireland — the right 
place, he contended, in which to fight for Ireland. The 
home organization was subject to his control, and would 
spring to arms at his bidding. He would not only bid 
them fight, but would lead them to battle, aud that at 
no distant day. The. few remaining months of I860 
would not pass away without witnessing the commence- 
ment of the struggle. So he said, and so he swore, in 
the most solemn manner, at various public meetings which 
he had called for the purpose of obtaining funds where- 
with to carry on the conflict. The prudence of thus 
publishing the date which he had fixed for the outbreak 
of the insurrection was very generally questioned 5 but, 
however great might be his error in this respect, many 
believed that he would endeavor to make good his 
words. The British government believed it, and pre- 
pared for the threatened rising by hurrying troops and 
munitions of war across to Ireland, and putting the 
various forts and barracks in a state of thorough defence. 
As the last days and nights of 1866 wore away, both 
the government and the people expected every moment 
to hear the first crash of the struggle. But it came not. 
The year 1867 came in, and still all was quiet. What 
had become of James Stephens? The astonished and 
irate Fenians of New York investigated the matter, and 
found that he was peacefully and very privately living at 
lodgings in some part of that city, afraid to face the 
wrath of the men whom he had so egregiously deceived. 
We need not describe the outburst of rage and indigna- 
tion which followed on the discovery ; suffice it to say 
that the once popular and powerful Fenian leader soon 



192 SPEECHES EEOM THE DOCK. 

found it prudent to quit the United States, and take up 
his abode in a part of the world where there were no 
Fenian circles, and no settlements of the swarming Irish 
race. 

Amongst the men who had rallied round James Stephens 
in America there were many whose honesty was untainted, 
and who had responded to his call with the full inten- 
tion of committing themselves, without regard to conse- 
quences, to the struggle which he promised to initiate. 
They believed his representations respecting the pros- 
pects of an insurrection in Ireland, and they pledged 
themselves to fight by his side and perish, if necessary, 
in the good old cause, in defence of which their fathers 
had bled. They scorned to violate their engagements; 
they spurned the idea of shrinking from the difficulty 
they had pledged themselves to face, and resolved that, 
come what may, the reproach of cowardice and bad faith 
should never be uttered against them. Accordingly, in 
January, 7 67, they began to land in scattered parties at 
Queenstown, and spread themselves through the country, 
taking every precaution to escape the suspicion of the 
police. They set to work diligently and energetically to 
organize an insurrectionary outbreak; they found in- 
numerable difficulties in their path ; they found the 
people almost wholly unarmed ; they found the wisest 
of the Fenian leaders opposed to an immediate out- 
break, but still they persevered. How ably they per- 
formed their work, there is plenty of evidence to show ; 
and if the Irish outbreak of '67 was short-lived and easily 
suppressed, it was far from contemptible in the pre- 
concert and organization which it evidenced. 

One hitch did occur in the accomplishment of their 
designs. On Wednesday, February 13th, the exciting 
news was flashed throughout the land that the Fenians 
had broken into insurrection at Kerry. The news was 
true. The night of the 12th of February had been fixed 
for a simultaneous rising of the Fenians in Ireland ; but 
the outbreak had been subsequently postponed, and 
emissaries were despached to all parts of the country 
with the intelligence of the change of date. The change 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 193 

of date was everywhere learned in time to prevent pre- 
mature action except at Cahirciveen, in the west of 
Kerry, where the members of the Brotherhood, acting 
upon the orders received, unearthed their arms, and 
gaily proceeded towards Killarney to form a junction 
with the insurgents, who, they imagined, had converged 
from various parts of the county in that town. Before 
many hours had elapsed they discovered their mistake : 
they heard, before arriving at Killarney, that they were 
the only representatives of the Irish Republic that had 
appeared in the field, and, turning to the mountains, they 
broke up and disappeared. 

Short-lived as was their escapade, it filled the heart 
of England with alarm. In hot haste the Habeas Corpus 
Suspension Act, which had been permitted to lapse a 
month before, was reenacted ; the arrests and police 
raids were renewed, and from the Giant's Causeway to 
Cape Clear the gaols were filled with political prisoners. 
Still the Irish-Americans worked on; some of them were 
swept off to prison, but the greater number of them 
managed to escape detection, and in spite of the vigilance 
of the authorities, and the extraordinary power possessed 
by the government and its officials, they managed to 
carry on the business of the organization, to mature 
their plans, and to perfect their arrangements for the 
fray. 

We do not propose to write here a detailed account of 
the last of the outbreaks which, since the Anglo-Norman 
invasion, have periodically convulsed our country. The 
time is not yet come when the whole history of that ex- 
traordinary movement can be revealed, and such of its 
facts as are now available for publication, are fresh in 
the minds of our readers. On the night of the 5th of 
March, the Fenian bands took the field in Dublin, Louth, 
Tipperary, Cork, Waterford, Limerick and Clare. They 
were, in all cases, wretchedly armed, their plans had 
been betrayed by unprincipled associates, and ruin 
tracked their venture from the outset. They were every- 
where confronted by well-armed, disciplined men, and 
their reckless courage could not pluck success for the 



194 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

maze of adverse circumstances that surrounded them. 
The elements, too, befriended England as they had often 
done before. Hardly had the insurgents left their homes 
when the clear March weather gave place to the hail and 
snow of mid-winter. The howling storm, edged by the 
frost and hail, swept over mountain and valley, rendering 
life in the open air all but impossible to man. The 
weather in itself would have been sufficient to dispose of 
the Fenian insurgents. Jaded and exhausted they returned 
to their homes, and twenty-four hours after the flag of 
revolt had been unfurled, the Fenian insurrection was at 
an end. 

Amongst the Irish officers who left America to share 
in the expected battle for Irish rights, a conspicuous place 
must be assigned Thomas F. Burke. He was born at 
Fethard, county Tipperary, on the 10th of December. 
1840, and twelve years later sailed away towards the 
setting sun, his parents having resolved on seeking a 
home in the far West. In New York, young Burke 
attended the seminary established by the late Archbishop 
Hughes, where he received an excellent education, after 
which he was brought up to his father's trade — that of 
house-painter. For many years he worked steadily at 
his trade, contributing largely to the support of his 
family. The outbreak of the war, however, acted in the 
same manner on Burke's temperament as on thousands 
of his fellow-countrj^men. He threw aside his peaceful 
avocation, and joined the Confederate army. He served 
under General Patrick Cleburne, who died in his arms, 
and he fought side by side with the son of another dis- 
tinguished exile, John Mitchel. When the war had 
closed, he returned a Brevet-General, northwards, with 
a shattered limb and an impaired constitution. In June, 
1865, he joined the Wolfe Tone Circle of the Fenian 
Brotherhood in New York, and was appointed soon after- 
wards to act as organizer in the Brotherhood for the 
district of Manhattan. He filled this post with great 
satisfaction to his associates, and continued to labor 
energetically in this capacity until his departure for 
Ireland, at the close of 1866. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 195 

Tipperary was assigned to Burke as the scene of his 
revolutionary labors in Ireland. He arrived in Clonmel 
early in February, where he was arrested on suspicion, 
but was immediately discharged — his worn appearance 
and physical infirmity giving strong corroboration of his 
assertion, that he had come to Ireland for the benefit of 
his health. On the night of the insurrection he placed 
himself at the head of the Fenian party that assembled in 
the neighborhood of Tipperary, but he quickly saw the 
folly of attempting a revolution with the scanty band of 
unarmed men that rallied round him. On the evening 
of the 6th his followers were attacked by a detachment 
of soldiers at Bally hurst Fort, about three miles from 
Tipperary ; Burke saw the uselessness of resistance, and 
advised his followers to disperse — an injunction which 
they appear to have obeyed. Burke himself was thrown 
from his horse and captured. He was conveyed to the 
jail of Tipperary, and was brought to trial in the Green- 
street court-house, in Dublin, on the 24th of April fol- 
lowing. He was convicted of high treason, and sen- 
tenced to death in the usual form. The following speech 
delivered by him after conviction is well worthy of a 
place in the Irish heart : — 

"My lords: — It is not my intention to occupy much of your time 
in answering the question — what I have to say why sentence should 
not be passed npon me? But I may, with jour permission, review 
a little of the evidence that has been brought against me. The first 
evidence that I would speak of is that of Sub-inspector Kelly, who 
had a conversation with me in Clonmel. He states that he asked 
me, either how was my friend, or what about my friend, Mr. 
Stephens, and that I made answer and said that he was the most 
idolized man that ever had been, or that ever would be, in America. 
Here, standing on the brink of my grave, and in the presence of the 
Almighty and ever-living God, I brand that as being the foulest 
perjury that ever man gave utterance to. In any conversation that 
occurred, the name of Stephens was not mentioned. I shall pass 
from that, and then touch on the evidence of Brett. He states 
that I assisted in distributing the bread to the parties in the fort, 
and that I stood with him in the wagon or cart. This is also false. 
I was not in the fort at the time; I was not there when the bread 
was distributed. I came in afterwards. Both of these assertions 
have been made and submitted to the men in whose hands my life 
rested, as evidence made on oath by these men — made solely and 



196 SPEECHES FEOM THE DOCK. 

purel y for the purpose of giving my body to an untimely grave. 
There are many points, my lords, that have been sworn to here, to 
prove my complicity in a great many acts it has been alleged I 
took part in. It is not my desire now, my lords, to give utterance 
to one word against the verdict which has been pronounced upon 
me. But fully conscious of my honor as a man, which has never 
been impugned ; fully conscious that I can go into my grave with a 
name and character unsullied, I can only say that these parties, 
actuated by a desire either of their own aggrandizement, or to save 
their paltry, miserable lives, have pandered to the appetite, if I may 
so speak, of justice, and my life shall pay the forfeit. Fully con- 
vinced and satisfied of the righteousness of my every act in con- 
nection with the late revolutionary movement in Ireland, I have 
nothing to recall — nothing that I would not do again, nothing for 
which I should feel the blush of shame mantling my brow ; my 
conduct and career, both here as a private citizen, and in America — ■ 
if you like — as a soldier, are before you ; and even in this, my hour 
of trial, I feel the consciousness of having lived an honest man, and 
I will die proudly, believing that, if I have given my life to give 
freedom and liberty to the land of my birth, I have done only that 
which every Irishman, and every man whose soul throbs with a 
feeling of liberty, should do. I, my lords, shall scarcely — I feel I 
should not at all — mention the name of Massey. I feel I should 
not pollute my lips with the name of that traitor, whose illegiti- 
macy has been proved here — a man whose name even is not known, 
and who, I deny point-blank, ever wore the star of a colonel in the 
Confederate army. Him I shall let rest. I shall pass him, wish- 
ing him, in the words of the poet : — 

' May the grass wither from his feet ; 
The woods deny him shelter ; earth a home ; 
The dust a grave ; the sun his light ; 
And heaven its God ! ' 

" Let Massey remember from this day forth that he carries with him, 
as my able and eloquent counsel (Mr. Dowse) has stated, a serpent 
that will gnaw his conscience — will carry about him in his breast a 
living hell from which he can never be separated. I, my lords, have 
no desire for the name of a martyr ; I seek not the death of a martyr ; 
but if it is the will of the Almighty and Omnipotent God that, my 
devotion for the land of my birth shall be tested on the scaffold, I am 
willing there to die in defence of the right of men to free govern- 
men — the right of an oppressed people to throw off the yoke of 
thraldom. I am an Irishman by birth, an American by adoption ; 
by nature a lover of freedom— an enemy to the power that holds 
my native land in the bonds of tyranny. It has so often been ad- 
mitted that the oppressed have a right to throw off the yoke of 
oppression, even by English statesmen, that I do not deem it neces- 
sary to advert to the fact in a British court ot justice. Ireland's 
children are not, never were, and never will be, willing or submis- 
sive slaves ; and as long as England's flag covers one inch of Irish 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 197 

soil, just so long will they believe it to be a divine right to conspire, 
imagine, and devise means to hurl it from power, and to erect in its 
stead the godlike structure of self-government. I shall now, my 
lords, before I go any further, perform one important duty to my 
learned, talented, and eloquent counsel. I offer them that which 
is poor enough, the thanks, the sincere and heartfelt thanks of an 
honest man. I offer them, too, in the name of America, the thanks 
of the Irish people. I know that I am here without a relative — 
without a friend — in fact, 3,000 miles away from my family. But 
I know that I am not forgotten there. The great and generous 
Irish heart of America to-day feels for me — to-day sympathizes 
with and does not forget the man who is willing to tread the 
scaffold — aye, defiantly, proudly, conscious of no wrong — in defence 
of American principles — in defence of liberty. To Messrs. Butt, 
Dowse, O'Loghlen, and all the counsel for the prisoners, for some 
of whom I believe Mr. Curran will appear, and my very able solici- 
tor, Mr. Lawless, I return, individually and collectively, my sincere 
and heartfelt thanks. 

" I shall now, my lords, as no doubt you will suggest to me, think 
of the propriety of turning my attention to the world beyond the 
grave. I shall now look only to that home where sorrows are at an 
end, where joy is eternal. I shall hope and pray that freedom may yet 
dawn on this poor down-trodden country. It is my hope, it is my 
prayer, and the last words that I shall utter will be a prayer to 
God for forgiveness, and a prayer for poor old Ireland. Now, my 
lords, in relation to the other man, Corridon, I will make a few re- 
marks. Perhaps before I go to Corridon, I should say much has 
been spoken on that table of Colonel Kelly, and of the meetings 
held at his lodgings in London. I desire to state I never knew 
where Colonel Kelly's lodgings were, I never knew where he lived 
in London, till I heard the informer Massey announce it on the 
table. I never attended a meeting at Colonel Kelly's ; and the 
hundred other statements that have been made about him, I now 
solemnly declare on my honor as a man, as a dying man, — ■ 
these statements have been totally unfounded and false from 
beginning to end. In relation to the small paper that was in- 
troduced here and brought against me as evidence, as having been 
found on my person in connection with that oath, I desire to say 
that that paper was not found on my person. I knew no person 
whose name was on that paper. O'Beirne, of Dublin, or those other 
delegates you heard of, I never saw or met. That paper has been 
put in there for some purpose. I can swear positively it is not in 
my handwriting. I can also swear I never saw it ; yet it is used 
as evidence against me. Is this justice? Is this right? Is this 
manly ? I am willing, if I have transgressed the laws, to suffer the 
penalty, but I object to this system of trumping up a case to take 
away the life of a human being. True, I ask for no mercy. I feel 
that, with my present emaciated frame and somewhat shattered 
constitution, it is better that my life should be brought to an end 
than that I should drag out a miserable existence in the prison dens 
of Portland. Thus it is, my lords, I accept the verdict. Of course 



19S SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

my acceptance of it is unnecessary, but I am satisfied with it. 
And now I shall close. True it is there are many feelings that ac- 
uate me at this moment. In fact, these few disconnected remarks 
can give no idea of what I desire to state to the court. I have ties 
to bind me to my life and society as strong as any man jn this court 
can have. I have a family I love as much as any man in this court 
loves his family. But I can remember the blessing I received from 
an aged mother's lips as I left her the last time. She, speaking as 
the Spartan mother did, said — ' Go, my boy, return either with your 
shield or upon it.' This reconciles me— this gives me heart. I 
submit to my doom ; and I hope that God will forgive me my past 
pins. I hope, also, that, inasmuch as He has for seven hundred years 
preserved Ireland, notwithstanding all the tyranny to which she 
has been subjected, as a separate and distinct nationality, He will 
also assist her to retrieve her fallen fortunes — to rise in her beauty 
and majesty, the Sister of Columbia, the peer of any nation in the 
world.' 5 

General Burke, as our readers are well aware, was not 
executed. The government shrank from carrying out 
the barbarous sentence of the law, and his punishment 
was changed to the still more painful, if less appalling, 
fate, of penal servitude for life. Of General Burke's 
private character we have said little ; but our readers 
will be able to understand it from the subjoined brief 
extracts from two of his letters. On the very night 
previous to his trial he wrote to his mother from Kil- 
mainham prison : — 

(i * * * Q n ] ast faster Sunday I partook of holy communion at a 
late Mass. I calculated the difference of time between this longitude 
and yours, fori knew that you and my dear sisters were partaking 
of the sacrament at early Mass on that day, as was your wont, 
and I felt that our souls were in communion together." 

We conclude with the following letter from General 
Burke, which has never before been published, and which 
we are sure will be of deep interest to our readers. It is 
addressed to the reverend gentleman who had been his 
father confessor in Clonmel : — 

" KlLMALNTHAM GAOL, 

4th, Month of Mary. 

"Dear Rev. Father: 

a * * * I am perfectly calm and resigned, with my thoughts 
firmly centred with hope in the goodness and mercy of that kind 
Redeemer, whose precious blood was shed for my salvation.; as also 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 199 

in the meditation and intercession of His Blessed Mother, who is my 
Star of Hope and Consolation. I know, dear father, I need not ask 
you to be remembered in your prayers, for I feel that in your suppli- 
cation to the Throne of Mercy I have not been forgotten. * * * 
I bave only one thought which causes me much sorrow, and that is 
that my good and loving mother will break down under the weight 
of her affliction, and, O God ! I who loved her more than the life 
which animates the hand that writes, to be the cause of it ! This 
thought unmans and prostrates me. I wrote to her at the com- 
mencement of my trial, and told her how I thought it would termi- 
nate, and spoke a long and last farewell. I have not written since — 
it would break my heart to attempt it ; but I would ask you as an 
especial favor that you would write to her and tell her I am happy 
and reconciled to the will of God, who has given me this oppor- 
tunity of saving my immortal soul. I hope to hear from you be- 
fore I leave this world. 

" Good-by, father, and that God may bless you in your minis- 
try is the prayer of an obedient child of the Church. 

"Thomas F. Burke.' 7 



200 SPEECHES FEOM THE DOCK. 



CAPTAIN JOHN M'AFFERTY. 

It is not Irish-born men alone whose souls are rilled with 
a chivalrous love for Ireland, and a stern hatred of her 
oppressor. There are, amongst the ranks of her patriots, 
none more generous, more resolute, or more active in her 
cause than the children born of Irish parents in various 
parts of the world. In London, Liverpool, Manchester, 
Birmingham, Glasgow, and all the large towns of Great 
Britain, throughout the United States, and in the British 
colonies, many of the best known and most thorough- 
going " Irishmen" are men whose place of birth was not 
beneath the Irish skies, and amongst them are some 
who never saw the shores of the Green Isle. One of 
these men was Captain John M'AfFerty. He was born 
of Irish parents in the State of Ohio, in the year 183S, 
and at their knees he heard of the rights and wrongs of 
Ireland, learned to sympathize with the sufferings of 
that country, and to regard the achievement of its free- 
dom as a task in which he was bound to bear a part. 
He grew up to be a man of adventurous and daring 
habits, better fitted for the camp than for the ordinary 
ways of peaceful life $ and when the civil war broke out 
he soon found his place in one of those regiments of the 
Confederacy, whose special duty lay in the accomplish- 
ment of the most hazardous enterprises. He belonged 
to the celebrated troop of Morgan's guerillas, whose 
dashing feats of valor so often filled the Federal forces 
with astonishment and alarm. In the latter part of 
1865 he crossed over to this country to assist in leading 
the insurrection which was then being prepared by the 
Fenian organization. He was arrested, as already stated 
in these pages, on board the steamer at Queenstown, 
before he had set foot on Irish soil ; when brought to 
trial at Cork, in the month of December, the lawyers 
discovered that being an alien, and having committed 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 201 

no overt act of treason within the Queen's dominions, 
there was no case against him, and he was consequently 
discharged. He then went back to America, took an 
active part in some Fenian meetings, made a speech at 
one of them which was held at Jones's Wood, and when 
the report of the proceedings appeared in print, he, with 
a sense of grim humor, posted a copy containing his 
oration to the governor of Mountjoy prison, Dublin. In 
the latter part of 1866, when James Stephens was pro- 
mising to bring off immediately the long-threatened 
insurrection, M'Afferty again crossed the ocean, and 
landed in England. There he was mainly instrumental 
in planning and organizing that extraordinary move- 
ment, the raid on Chester, which took place on Monday, 
11th of February, 18G7. It is now confessed, even by 
the British authorities themselves, that, but for the 
timely intimation of the design given by the informer 
Corridon, M'Afferty and his party would probably have 
succeeded in capturing the old Castle, and seizing the 
large store of arms therein contained. Finding their 
movements anticipated, the Fenian party left Chester as 
quietly as they had come, and the next that was heard of 
M'Afferty was his arrest, and that of his friend and com- 
panion, John Flood, on the 23d of February, in the 
harbor of Dublin, after they had got into a small boat 
from out of the collier New Draper, which had just 
arrived from Whitehaven. M'AfTerty was placed in the 
dock of Green-street court-house for trial on Wednesday, 
May 1st, while the jury were absent considering their 
verdict in the case of Burke and Doran. On Monday, 
May the 6th, he was declared guilty by the jury. On 
that day week a Court of Appeal, consisting of ten of 
the Irish judges, sat to consider some legal points raised 
by Mr. Butt in the course of the trial, the most impor- 
tant of which was the question whether the prisoner, 
who had been in custody since February 23d, could be 
held legally responsible for the events of the Fenian 
rising which occurred on the night of the 5th of March. 
Their lordships gave an almost unanimous judgment 
against the prisoner on Saturday, May ISth, and on the 



202 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

Monday following he was brought up for sentence, on 
w r hich occasion, in response to the usual question, he 
spoke as follows : — 

" M v lords: — I have nothing to say that can, at this advanced 
stacre of the trial, ward off that sentence of death, for I might as 
■well hurl my complaint (if I had one) at the orange-trees of the sun- 
ny South, or the tall pine-trees of the bleak North, as now to speak 
to the question why sentence of death should not be passed upon me 
according to the law of the land; but I do protest loudly agaius; 
the injustice of that sentence. I have been brought to trial upon a 
charge of high treason against the government of Great Britain, and 
guilt has been brought home to me upon the evidence of one wit- 
ness, and that witness a perjured informer. I deny distinctly that 
there have been two witnesses to prove the overt act of treason 
against me. I deny distinctly that you have brought two indepen- 
dent witnesses to two overt acts. There is but one witness to prove 
the overt act of treason against me. I grant that there has been a 
cloud of circumstantial evidence to show my connection (if 
I may please to use that word) with the Irish people in 
their attempt for Irish independence; and I claim that, as au 
American and as an alien, I have a reason and a right to sympathize 
with the Irish people, or any other people who may please to re- 
volt against that form of government by which they believe they 
are governed tyrannically. England sympathized with America. 
She not only sympathized, but she gave her support to both par- 
ties; but who ever heard of an Englishman having been arrested 
by the United States government for having given his support to 
the Confederate States of America, and placed on his trial for high 
treason against the government. ? No such case ever has been. I 
do not deny that I have sympathized with the Irish people — I love 
Ireland — I love the Irish people. And, it' I were free to-morrow, 
and the Irish people were to take the field for independence, my 
sympathy would be with them ; I would join them if they had any 
prospect whatever of independence, but I would not give my sanc- 
tion to the useless effusion of blood, however done ; and I state dis- 
tinctly that I had nothing whatever to do, directly or indirectly, 
with the movement that took place in the county of Dublin. I make 
that statement on the brink of my grave. Again, I claim that 1 have 
a right to be discharged of the charge against me by the language of 
the law by which I have been tried. That law states that you must 
have two independent witnesses to prove the overt act against the 
prisoner. That is the only complaint I have to make, and I make 
that aloud. I find no fault with the jury, no complaint against the 
judges. I have been tried and found guilty. I am perfectly satis- 
fied that, T will go to my grave. I will go to my grave like a gentleman 
and a Christian, although I regret, that I should be cut off at this 
stage of my life — still many a noble Irishman fell in defence of the 
rights of my southern clime. I do not, wish to make any flowery 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 203 

speech to win sympathy in the court of justice. Without any fur- 
ther remarks I Avill now accept the sentence of the court." 

Mr. Justice Fitzgerald then, in the "solemn tone of 
voice " adopted on such occasions, proceeded to pass sen- 
tence in the usual form, fixing the 12th day of June as 
the date on which the execution should take place. 

The prisoners heard the sentence without giving the 
slightest symptoms of emotion, and then spoke the fol- 
lows : — 

"I will accept my sentence as becomes a gentleman and a Chris- 
tian. I have but one request to ask of the tribunal, and that is, 
that after the execution of the sentence my remains shall be turned 
over to Mr. Lawless to be by him interred in consecrated ground 
as quietly as he possibly can. I have now, previous to leaving the 
dock, once more to return my grateful and sincere thanks to Mr. 
Butt, the star of the Irish bar, for his able and devoted defence on 
behalf of me and my friends. Mr. Butt, I thank you. I also re- 
turn the same token of esteem to Mr. Dowse, for the kind and 
feeling manner in which he alluded to the scenes in my former life. 
Those kind allusions recall to my mind many moments— some 
bright, beautiful, and glorious — and yet some sad recollections arise 
of generous hopes that floated o'er me, and now sink beyond the 
grave. Mr. Butt, please convey to Mr. Dowse my grateful and sin- 
cere thanks. Mr. Lawless, I also return you my thanks for your 
many acts of kindness — I cant do no more." 

He was not executed, however. The commutation of 
Burk's sentence necessitated the like course in all the 
other capital cases, and M'Afferty's doom was changed to 
penal servitude for life. 



204 SPEECHES FEOM THE DOCK. 



EDWARD DUFFY. 

On the day following that on which M'Afferty's sen- 
tence was pronounced, the trial of three nien, named 
John Flood, Edward Duffy, and John Cody, was brought 
to a conclusion. When they were asked what they had 
to say why sentence should not to be passed on them, Cody 
denied, with all possible earnestness, the charge of being 
president of an assassination committee, which had been 
brought against him. Flood — a young man of remarkably 
handsome exterior — declared that the evidence adduced 
against himself was untrue in many particulars. He al- 
luded to the Attorney-General's having spoken of him as 
" that wretched man, Flood." " My lords/ 7 said he, u if 
to love my country more than my life makes me a 
wretched man, then I am a very wretched man indeed." 
Edward Duffy, it might be supposed by any one looking 
at his emaciated frame, wasted by consumption, and with 
the seal of death plainly set on his brow, would not be 
able to offer any remarks to the court; but he roused 
himself to the effort. The noble-hearted young fellow 
had been previously in the clutches of the government for 
the same offence. He was arrested with James Stephens 
and others at Fairfield House, in November 1865, but 
after a brief imprisonment was released in consideration 
of the state of his health, which seemed such as would 
not leave him many days to live. But, few or many, 
Duffy could not do otherwise than devote them to the 
cause he had at heart. He was rearrested at Boyle on 
the 11th of March, and this time the government took 
care they would not quit their hold of him. The follow- 
ing is the speech which, by a great physical effort, he de- 
livered from the dock, his dark eyes brightening, and his 
pallid features lighting up with the glow of an earnest 
and lofty enthusiasm while he spoke : — 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 205 

"The Attorney-General has made a wanton attack on me, hut I 
leave my countrymen to judge between us. There is no political 
act of mine that* I in the least regret. I have labored earnestly 
and sincerely in my country's cause, and I have been actuated 
throughout by a strong sense of duty. I believe that a man's duty 
to his country is part of his duty to God, for it is He who implants 
the feeling of patiotism in the human breast. He, the great searcher 
of hearts, knows that I have been actuated by no mean or paltry 
ambition — that I have never worked for any selfish end. For tho 
late outbreak I am not responsible; I did all in my power to pre- 
vent it, for I knew that, circumstanced as we then were, it would be a 
failure. It has been stated in the course of those trials that 
Stephens was for peace. This is a mistake. It may be well that it 
should not go uncontradicted. It is but too well known in Ireland 
that he sent numbers of men over here to fight, promising to be with 
them when the time would come. The time did come, but not Mr. 
Stephens. He remained in France to visit the Paris Exhibition. 
It may be a very pleasant sight, but I would not be in his place 
now. He is a lost man — lost to honor, lost to country. There 
are a few things I would wish to say relative to the evidence given 
against me at my trial, but I would ask your lordships to give me 
permission to say them after sentence. I have a reason for asking 
to be allowed to say them after sentence has been passed." 

The Chief Justice : — "That is not the usual practice. Not being 
tried for life, it is doubtful to me whether yon have a right to speak 
at all. What you are asked to say is why sentence should not be 
passed upon you, and whatever you have to say you must say now." 

"Then, if I must say it now, I declare it before my God that 
what Kelly swore against me on the table is not true. I saw him in 
Ennisgroven; but that I ever spoke to him on any political sub- 
ject, I declare to heaven I never did. I knew him from a child in 
that little town, herding with the lowest and vilest. Is it to be 
supposed I'd put my liberty into the hands of such a character? 
I never did it. The next witness is Corridon. He swore that, at 
the meeting he referred to. I gave him directions to go to Kerry to 
find O'Connor, and put himself in communication with him. I 
declare to my God every word of that is false. Whether O'Connor 
was in the country or whether he had made his escape, I knowjust as 
little as your lordships ; and I never heard of the Kerry rising until I 
saw it in the public papers. As to my giving the American officers 
money that night, before my God, on the verge of my grave, where 
my sentence will send me, I say that also is false. As to the writing 
that the policeman swore to in that book, and which is not a 
prayer-book, but the 'Imitation of Christ,' given to me by a lady 
to whom I served my time, what was written in that book was writ- 
ten by another young man in her employment. That is bis writing-, 
not mine. It is the writing of a young man in the house, and I 
never wrote a line of it." 

The Lord Chief Justice: — " It was not sworn to be in your hand- 
writing." 



206 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

" Yes, my lord, it was. The policeman swore it was in my 
handwriting." 

The Lord Chief Justice : — " That is a mistake. It was said to be 
like yours." 

"The dream of my life has been that I might die fighting for 
Ireland. The jury have doomed me to a more painful, but not 
less glorious death. I now bid farewell to my friends and all 
who are dear to me. 

1 There is a world where souls are free, 
Where tyrants taint not nature's bliss; 

If death that bright world's opening be, 
Oh, who would live a slave in this V 

" I am proud to be thought worthy of suffering for my country ; 
when I am lying in my lonely cell I will not forget Ireland, and my 
last prayer will be that the God of liberty may give her strength to 
shake off her chains." 

John Flood and Edward Duffy were then sentenced 
each to fifteen years of penal servitude, and Cody to 
penal servitude for life. 

Edward Duffy's term of suffering did not last long. 
A merciful Providence gave Lis noble spirit release 
from its earthly tenement before one year from the date 
of his sentence had passed away. On the 2 1st of May, 
1867, his trial concluded ; on the 17th of January, 1868, 
the patriot lay dead in, his cell in Millbank prison, Lon- 
don. The government permitted his friends to remove 
his remains to Ireland for interment ; and they now rest 
in Glasnevin Cemetery, Dublin, where friendly hands 
oft renew the flowers on his grave, and many a heart- 
felt prayer is uttered that God would give the patriot's 
soul eternal rest, and " let perpetual light shine unto 
him. 7; 



SPEECHES EEOM THE DOCK. 207 



STEPHEN JOSEPH MEANY. 

The connection of Stephen Joseph Meany with Irish 
politics dates back to 1848, when he underwent an im- 
prisonment of some months in Carrickfergus Castle, under 
the provisions of the Habeas Corpus Suspension Act. He 
had been a writer on one of the national newspapers of 
that period, and was previously a reporter for a Dublin 
daily paper. He joined the Fenian movement in America, 
and was one of the " Senators n in O'Mahony's organi- 
zation. In December, 1866, he crossed over to England, 
and in the following month he was arrested in London, 
and was brought in custody across to Ireland. His trial 
took place in Dublin on the 16th of February, 1S67, 
when the legality of the mode of his arrest was denied 
by his counsel, and, as it was a very doubtful question, 
the point was reserved to be considered by a Court of 
Appeal. The tribunal sat on May the 13th, 1S67, and on 
May the 18th, their decision, confirming the conviction, 
was pronounced. It was not until the 21st of the fol- 
lowing month, at the Commission of Oyer and Terminer, 
that he was brought up for sentence. He then delivered 
the following able address to show " why sentence should 
not be passed on him : n — 

" My lords : — There are many reasons I could offer why sentence 
should not — could not — be pronounced upon me according to law, 
if seven months of absolute solitary imprisonment, and the almost 
total disuse of speech during that period, had left me energy 
enough, or even language sufficient to address the court. But 
yielding obedience to a suggestion coming from a quarter which I 
am bound to respect, as well indeed as in accordance with my own 
feelings, I avoid everything like speech-making for outside effect. 
Besides, the learned counsel who so ably represented me in the 
Court of" Appeal, and 'the eminent judges who in that court gave 
judgment for me, have exhausted all that could be said on the law 
of the case. Of their arguments and opinions your lordships have 
judicial knowledge. I need not say that both in interest as in con- 
viction I am in agreement with the constitutional principles laid 



208 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

dowu by the minority of the judges in that court; and I have 
sufficient respect for the dignity of the court — sufficient regard to 
what is due to myself — to concede fully and frankly to the majority 
a conscientious view of a novel and, it may be, a difficult question. 

" But I do not ask too much in asking that, before your lordships 
proceed to pass any sentence, you will consider the manner in which 
the court was divided on that question— to bear in mind that the 
minority declaring against the legality and the validity of the con- 
viction was composed of some of the ablest and most experienced 
judges of the Irish bench or any bench — to bear in mind that one 
of these learned judges who had presided at the Commission Court 
was one of the most emphatic in the Court of Criminal Appeal in 
declaring against my liability to be tried; and moreover — and he 
ought to know— that there was not a particle of evidence to sustain 
the cause set up at the last moment, and relied upon by the Crown, 
that I was an ' accessory before the fact ' to that famous Dublin 
overt act, for which, as an after- thought ot f the Crown, I was in fact 
tried. And I ask you further to bear in mind that the affirmance 
of that conviction was not had on fixed principles of the law — 
for the question was unprecedented — but on a speculative view of a 
suppositious case, and I must say a strained application of an 
already over-strained and dangerous doctrine — the doctrine of 
constructive criminality — the doctrine of making a man at a distance 
of three thousand miles, or more, legally responsible for the words 
and acts of others whom he had never seen, and of whom he had 
never heard, under the fiction or the 'supposition' that he was a 
co-conspirator. The word ' supposition ' is not mine, my lords ; it is 
the word put forward descriptive of the point by the learned judges 
presiding at my trial ; for I find in the case prepared by these judges 
for the Court of Criminal Appeal the following paragraph : — 

" ' Sufficient evidence was given on the part of the Crown of acts 
of members of the said association in Ireland, not named in the 
indictment, in the promotion of several objects aforesaid, and done 
within the county of the city of Dublin, to sustain some of the 
overt acts charged in the indictment, supposing them to be the acts 
of the defendant himself.' 

" Fortified by such facts — with a court so divided, and with 
opinions so expressed — I submit that, neither according to act of 
parliament, nor in conformity with the practice of common law, 
nor in any way in pursuance of the principles of that apocryphal 
abstraction, that magnificent myth — the British constitution — am 
I amenable to the sentence of this court — or any court in this 
country. True, I am in the toils, and it may be vain to discuss 
how I was brought into them. True, my long and dreary im- 
prisonment — shut away from all converse or association with 
humanity, in a cell twelve feet by six — the humiliation of prison 
discipline — the hardships of prison fare — the handcuffs and the 
heartburnings — this court and its surroundings of power and author- 
ity — all these are ' hard practical facts/ which no amount of in- 
dignant protests can negative — no denunciation of the wrong refine 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 209 

away; and it may be, as I have said, worse than useless — vain and 
absurd — to question the right where might is pi*edominant. But 
the invitation just extended to me by the officer of the court means, 
if it mean anything — if it be not like the rest, a solemn mockery — 
that there is still left to me the poor privilege of complaint. And 
I do complain. I complain that law and justice have been alike 
violated in my regard ; I complain that the much belauded attri- 
bute, 'British fair play/ has been for me a nullity; I complain 
that the pleasant fiction described in the books as ' personal free- 
dom' has had a most unpleasant illustration in my person; and I 
furthermore and particularly complain that, by the design and con- 
trivance of what are called ' the authorities,' I have been brought 
to this country, not for trial, but for condemnation — not for justice, 
but for judgment. 

" I will not tire the patience of the court, or exhaust my own 
strength, by going over the history of this painful case— the kid- 
napping in Loudon on the mere belief of a police-constable that I 
was a Fenian in New York — the illegal transportation to Ireland — 
the committal for trial on a specific charge, whilst a special mes- 
senger was despatched to New York to hunt up informers to justify 
the illegality and the outrage, and to get a foundation for any 
charge. I will not dwell on the ' conspicuous absence ' of fair play 
in the Crown at the trial having closed their cases without any 
reference to the Dublin transaction, but, as an afterthought, sug- 
gested by their discovered failure, giving in evidence the facts and 
circumstances of that case, and thus succeeding in making the jury 
convict me for an offence with which, up to that moment, the Crown 
did not intend to charge me. I will not say what I think of the 
mockery of putting me on trial in the Commission Court in Dublin 
for alleged words and acts in New York, and though the evidence 
was without notice, and the alleged overt acts without date, taunt- 
ing me with not proving an alibi, and sending that important 
ingredient to a jury already ripe for a conviction. Prove an alibi 
to-day in respect of meetings held in Clinton Hall, New York, the 
allegations relating to which only came to my knowledge yesterday ! 
I will not refer with any bitter feeling to the fact that, whilst the 
validity of the conviction so obtained was still pending in the 
Court of Criminal Appeal, the Right Hon. and Noble the Chief 
Secretary for Ireland declared in the House of Commons that ' that 
conviction was the most important one at the Commission' — thus 
prejudicing my case, I will not say willingly ; but the observation 
was, at least, inopportune, and for me unfortunate. 

"I will not speak my feeling on the fact that, in the arguments 
in the case in the Court for Reserved Cases, the Right Hon. the 
Attorney-General appealed to the passions — if such can exist in judges 
— and not to the judgment of the court; for I gather from the 
judgment of Mr. Justice O'Hagan that the right hon. gentleman 
made an earnest appeal ' that such crimes ' as mine ' should not be 
allowed to go unpunished' — forgetful, I will not say designedly for- 
getful, that he was addressing the judges of the land, in the highest 



210 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



court of the land, on matters of. law, and not speaking to a pliant 
Dublin jury on a treason trial in the court-house of Green-street. 

"Before I proceed further, my lords, there is a matter which, as 
simply personal to myself, I should not mind, but which, as involv- 
ing high interests to the community, and serious consequences to 
individuals, demands a special notice. I allude to the system oi 
manufacturing informers. I want to know, if the court can inform 
me, by what right a responsible officer of the Crown entered my 
solitary cell at Kilmainham prison on Monday last — unbidden and 
unexpected — uninvited and undesired. I want to know what justi 
fication there was for his coming to insult me in my solitude and in my 
sorrow — ostensibly informing me that I was to be brought up for sen- 
tence on Thursday, but in the same breath adroitly putting to me the 
question if I knew any of the men recently arrested near Dungarvan, 
and now in the prison of Kilmainham. Coming thus, with a 
detective dexterity, canVmg in one hand a threat of sentence and 
punishment, in the other, as a counterpoise and, I suppose, an 
alternative, a temptation to treachery, — did he suppose that seven 
months of imprisonment had so broken my spirit, as well as my 
health, that I would be an easy prey to his blandishments ? Did he 
dream that the prospect of liberty which newspaper rumor and 
semi-offical information held out to me, wa^too dear to be forfeited 
for a trifling forfeiture of honor? Did he believe that by an act of 
secret turpitude I would open my prison doors only to close them 
the faster on others who may or may not have been my friends— or 
did he imagine he had found in me a Massey to be moulded and 
manipulated into the service of the Crown, or a Corridon to have 
cowardice and cupidity made the incentives to his baseness f I only 
wonder how the interview ended as it did ; but I knew I was a 
prisoner, and self-respect preserved my patience and secured his 
safety. Great, my lords, as has been my humiliation in prison, 
hard and heart-breaking as have been the ordeals through which T 
have passed since the 1st of December last, there was no incident or 
event of that period fraught with more pain on the one hand, or 
more suggestiveness on the other, than this sly and secret attempt 
at improvising an informer. I can forget the pain in view of the 
suggestiveness ; and unpleasant as is my position here to day, I am 
almost glad of the opportunity which may end in putting some 
check to the spy system in prisons. How many men have been 
won from honor and honesty by the stealthy visit to the cell, is 
more of course than I can say; how many have had their weakness 
acted upon, or their weakness fanned into flame by which means, I 
have no opportunity of knowing; in how many frailty and folly 
may have blossomed into falsehood, it is for those concerned to 
estimate. There is one tiling, however, certain — operating in this 
way is more degrading to the tempter than to the tempted ; and 
the government owes it to itself to put an end to a course of tactics 
pursued in its name, which in the results can only bring its humi- 
liation : the public are bound in self-protection to protect the 
prisoner from the prowling visits of a too zealous official. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCEi. 211 

" I pass over all- these things, my lords, and I ask your atten- 
tion to the character of the evidence on which alone ray conviction 
was obtained: the evidence of a special, subsidized spy, and of an 
infamous and ingrate informer. 

" In all ages, and amongst all peoples, the spy has been held in 
marked abhorrence. In the amnesties of war there is for him alone 
no quarter; in the estimate of social life, no toleration; his self- 
abasement excites contempt, not compassion; his patrons despise 
while they encourage; and they who stoop to enlist bis services, 
shrink with disgust from the moral leprosy covering the servitor. 
Of such was the witness put forward to coiToborate the informer, 
and still not corroborating him. Of such was that phenomenon, a 
police spy, who declared himself an unwilling witness for the 
Crown ! There was no reason why in my regard he should be un- 
willing — he knew me not previously. I have no desire to speak 
harshly of Inspector Doyle; he' said in presence of the Crown So- 
licitor, and was not contradicted, that he was compelled by threats 
to ascend the witness table. He may have had cogent reasons for 
his reluctance in his own conscience. God will judge him. 

44 But how shall I speak of the informer, Mr. John Devany ? 
What language should be employed in describing the character of 
one who adds to the guilt ot perfidy to his associates the crime of 
perjury to his God? — the man who, eating of your bread, sharing 
your confidence, and holding, as it were, your very purse-strings, 
all the time meditates your overthrow, and pursues it to its accom- 
plishment? How paint the wretch who, under pretence of agree- 
ment in your opinions, worms himself into your secrets only to 
betray them; and who, upon the same altar with you, pledges his 
faith and fealty to the same principles, and then sells faith, and 
fealty, and principles, and you alike, for the unhallowed Judas 
guerdon? Of such, on his own confession, was that distinguished 
upholder of the British Crown and government, Mr. Devany. 
With an effrontery that did not falter, and knew not how to blush, 
he detailed his own participation in the acts for which he was pro- 
secuting me as a participator. And is the evidence of,a man like 
that— a conviction obtained upon such evidence — any warrant for a 
sentence depriving me of all that makes life desirable or enjoyable? 

44 He was, first, spy for the crown — in the pay of the Crown, under 
the control of the Crown, and think you he had any other object 
than to do the behests of the Crown? 

" He was next the traitor spy, who had taken that one fatal step, 
from which in this life there is no retrogression— that one plunge in 
infamy from which there is no receding — that one treachery for 
which there is no earthly forgiveness; and, think you, he hesitated 
about a perjury more or less to secure present pay and future pa- 
tronage? Here was one to whom existence offers now no prospect 
save in making his perfidy a profession, and think you he was de- 
terred by conscience from recommending himself to his patrons? 
Think you that when, at a distance of three thousand miles from the 
scenes he professed to describe, he could lie with impunity and 



212 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

invent without detection, he was particular to a shade in doing his 
part of a most filthy bargain ? It is needless to describe a wretch of 
that kind — his own actions speak his character. It were super- 
fluous to curse hiui: his whole existence will be a living, a con- 
tinuing curse. No necessity to use the burning words of the poet 
and say : — 

' May life's unblessed cup for him 

Be drugged with treacheries to the brim. , 

" Every sentiment in his regard of the country he has dishonored, 
and the people he has humbled, will be one of horror and hate. 
Every sigh sent up from the hearts he has crushed, and the homes 
he has made desolate, will be mingled with execrations on the 
name of the informer. Every heart-throb in the prison cells of this 
land where his victims count time by corroding his thought — 
every grief that finds utterance from these victims in the quarries 
of Portland, will go up to heaven freighted with curses on the Naples, 
the Devanys, the Masseys, the Gillespies, the Corridons, and the 
whole host of mercenary miscreants, who, faithless to their friends 
and recreant to their professions, have, paraphrasing the words of 
Moore, taken their perfidy to heaven, seeking to make an accomplice of 
their God — wretches who have embalmed their memories in imperish- 
able infamy, and given their accursed names to an inglorous immor- 
tality. Nor will I speculate on their career in the future. We 
have it on the best existing authority that a distinguished informer 
of antiquity, seized with remorse, threw away his blood-money, 
'went forth and hanged himself.' We know that in times within 
the memory of living men a government actually set the edifying 
and praiseworthy example of hanging an informer when they had no 
further use of his valuable services — thus dropping his acquaintance 
with effect. I have no wish for such a fate to any of the informers who 
have cropped out so luxuriantly in these latter days — along life and 
a troubled conscience would, perhaps, be their correct punishment — 
though certainly there would be a consistent compensation — 
a poetic justice — in a termination so exalted to a career so 
brilliant. 

" I leave these fellows and turn for a moment to their victims. And 
I would here, without any reference to my own case, earnestly im- 
plore that sympathy with political sufferers should not be merelv 
telescopic in its character, 'distance lending enchantment to the 
view;' and that when your statesmen sentimentalize upon, and your 
journalists denounce, far-away tyrannies — the horrors of Neapolitan 
dungeons — the abridgment of personal freedom in continental 
countries — the exercise of arbitrary power by irresponsible authority 
in other lands — they would turn their eyes homeward, and ex- 
amine the treatment and the sufferings of their own political pris- 
oners. I would, in all sincerity, suggest that humane and well- 
meaning men, who exert themselves for the remission of the death- 
penalty as a mercy, would rather implore that the doors of solitary 
and silent captivity should be remitted to the more merciful 
doom of an immediate relief from suffering by immediate exe- 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 21.3 

cntion — the opportunity of an immediate appeal from man's cruelty 
to God's justice. I speak strongly on this point, because I feel it 
deeply. I speak not without example. At the Commission at 
which I was tried, there was tried also and sentenced a young man 
named Stowell. I well remember that raw and dreary morning, 
the 12th March, when, handcuffed to Stowell, I was sent from Kil- 
mainham prison to the county gaol of Kildare. I well remember 
our traversing, so handcuffed, from the town of Sallins to the 
town of Naas, ancle-deep in snow and mud, and I recall now with 
pain our sad foreboding of that morning. These in part have been 
fulfilled. Sunday after Sunday I saw poor Stowell at chapel in 
Naas gaol, drooping and dying. One such Sunday — the 12th May 
— passed, and I saw him no more. On Wednesday, the 15th, he 
was, as they say, mercifully released from prison, but the fiat of 
mercy had previously gone forth from a higher power — the politi- 
cal convict simply reached his own home to die, with loving eyes 
watching by his death-bed. On Sunday, the 19th May, he was 
consigned to another prison home in Glasnevin Cemetery. May 
God have mercy on his soul — may God forgive his persecutors- 
may God give peace and patience to those who are doomed to 
follow! 

"Pardon this digression, my lords, I could not avoid it. Returning 
to the question, why sentence should not be pronounced upon me, 
I would ask your lordships' attention to the fact showing, 
even in the estimate of the Crown, the case is not one for 
sentence. 

"On the morning of my trial, and before the trial, terms were 
offered to me by the Crown. The direct proposition was made through 
roy solicitor, through the learned counsel who so ably defended me, 
through the Governor of Kilmainham prison — by all three — that, 
if I pleaded guilty to the indictment, I should ,get off with six 
months' imprisonment. Knowing the pliancy of Dublin juries in 
political cases, the offer was. doubtless, a tempting one. Valuing 
liberty, it was almost resistless — in view of a possible penal servi- 
tude — but, having regard to principle, I spurned the compromise. I 
then gave unhesitatingly, as I would now give, the answer, that 
not for a reduction of the punishment to six hours would I sur- 
render faith — that I need never look, and could never look, wife or 
children, friends or family, in the face, if capable of such a selfish 
cowardice. I could not, to save myself, imperil the safety of others 
— I could not plead guilty to an indictment in which six others 
were distinctly charged by name as co-conspirators with me — one 
of those six since tidied, convicted, and sentenced to death — I could 
not consent to obtain my own pardon at their expense — furnish 
the Crown with a case in point for future convictions, and become, 
even though indirectly, worthy to rank with that brazen battalion 
of venal vagabonds who have made the Holy Gospel of God the 
medium of barter for their unholy gain, and obtained access to the 
inmost heart of their selected victim only to coin its throbbing into 
the traitor's gold, and traffic on its very life-blood. 



214 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

"Had I been charged simply with my own words and deeds, I 
would have no hesitation in making acknowledgment. I have 
nothing to repent and nothing to conceal — nothing to retract and 
nothing to countermand; but, in the language of the learned Lord 
Chief I3aron in this case, I could not admit 'the preposterous idea 
of thinking by deputy' any more than I couhl plead guilty to an 
indictment which charges others with crime. Further, my lords, I 
could not acknowledge culpability for the acts and words of others 
at a distance of three thousand miles — others whom I had never 
seen, of whom I had never heard, and with whom I never had 
had communication. I could not admit that the demoniac atrocities, 
described as Fenian principles by the constabulary-spy, Talbot, ever 
had my sanction or approval, or the sanction or approval of any 
man in America. 

"If, my lords, six months' imprisonment was the admeasurement 
of the law officers of the Crown as an adequate punishment for my 
alleged offence — assuming that the court had jurisdiction to try 
and punish — then, am I now entitled to my discharge, independent 
of all other grounds of discharge, for I have gone through seven 
months of an imprisonment which could not be excelled by demon 
ingenuity in horror and in hardship — in solitude, in silence and in 
suspense. Your lordships will not only render further litigation 
necessary by passing sentence for the perhaps high crime — but still 
the untried crime — of refusing to yield obedience to the Crown's pro- 
position for my self-abasement. You will not, I am sure, visit upon 
my rejection of Mr. Anderson's delicate overture— you will not surely 
permit the events occurring, unhappily occurring, since my trial, to 
influence your judgments. And do not, I implore you, accept as 
a truth, influencing that judgment, Talbot's definition of the ob- 
jects of Fenianism. Hear what Devany, the American informer, 
describes them to be. 'The members,' he says, 'were pledged by 
word of honor to promote love and harmony amongst all cdasses of 
Irishmen, and to labor for the independence of Ireland.' Talbot 
eays that in Ireland 'the members are bound by oath to seize the 
property of the country and murder all opposed to them.' Can 
any two principles be more distinct from each other? Could there 
be a conspiracy for a common object by such antagonistic means? 
To murder all opposed to your principles may be an effectual way 
of producing unanimity, but the quality of love and harmony en- 
gendered by such a patent process would be extremely equivocal. 
Mr. Talbot, for the purposes of his evidence, must have borrowed 
a leaf from the History of the French Revolution, and adopted, as 
singularly telling and appropriate for effect, the saying attributed to 
Robespierre: 'Let us cut everybody's throat but our own, and then 
we are sure to be masters.' 

" No one in America. I venture to affirm, ever heard of such 
designs in crnnecion with the Fenian Brotherhood. No one in 
America would countenance such designs. Revolutionists are not 
ruffians or rapparees. A judge from the bench at Cork, and a noble 
lord in his place in parliament, bore testimony to that fact, in 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 215 

reference to the late movement; I and I ask you, my lords — I would 
ask the country from this court — for the sake of the character of 
your countrymen — to believe Devany's interpretation of Fenianism 
— tainted traitor though he be— rather than believe that the kindly 
instincts of Irishmen at home and abroad — their generous im- 
pulses — their tender sensibilities — all their human affections, in a 
word — could degenerate into the attributes of the assassin, as stated 
by that hog-in-armor, that crime-creating Constable Talbot. 

"Taking other ground, my lords, I object to any sentence upon 
me. I stand at this bar a declared citizen of the United States of 
America, entitled to the protection of such citizenship ; and I pro- 
test against the right to pass auy sentence in any British court for 
acts done, or words spoken, or alleged to be done or spoken, 
on American soil, within the shades of the American Hag, 
and under the sanction of American institutions. I protest 
against the assumption that would in this country limit the right 
of thought, or control the liberty of speech in an assemblage 
of American citizens in an American city. The United States 
will, doubtless, respect and protect her neutrality laws and 
observe the comity of nations, whatever they may mean in practice, 
but I protest against the monstrous tiction — the transparent fraud — 
that would seek, in ninety years after the evacuation of New York 
by the British, to bring the people of New York within the vision 
and venue of a British jury — that, in ninety years after the last 
British bayonet had glistened in an American sunlight, after the 
last keel of the last of the English fleet ploughed its last furrow in 
the Hudson or the Delaware — after ninety years of republican in- 
dependence—would seek to restore that city of New York and its 
institutions to the dominion of the Crown and government of Great 
Britain. This is the meaning of it, and, disguise it as you may, so 
will it be interpreted beyond the Atlantic. Not that the people of 
America care one jot whether S. J. Meany were hanged, drawn, 
and quartered to-morrow, but that there is a great principle in- 
volved. Personally, I am of no consequence ; politically, I repre- 
sent in this court the adopted citizen of America — for, as the New 
York Herald, referring to this case, observed, if the acts done in 
my regard are justifiable, there is nothing to prevent the extension 
of the same justice to any other adopted citizen of the States visit- 
ing Great Britain. It is, therefore, in the injustice of the case the 
influence lies, and not in the importance of the individual. 

"Law is called 'the perfection of reason.' Is there not danger 
of its being regarded as the very climax of absurdity, if fictions of 
this kind can be turned into realities on the mere caprice of power ? 
Asa distinguished English journalist has suggested in reference to 
the case, ' Though the law may doubtless be satisfied by the majority 
in the Court of Appeal, yet common sense and common law would 
be widely antagonistic if sentence were to follow a judgment so ob- 
tained.' 

" On all grounds, then, I submit, in conclusion, this is not a case 
for sentence. Waiving for the purpose the international objection, 



216 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



and appealing to British practice itself, I say it is not a fair case 
for sentence. The professed policy of that practice has ever been, 
to give the benefit of doubt to the prisoner. Judges in their charges 
to juries have ever theorized on this principle, and surely judges 
themselves will not refuse to give practical effect to the theory. If 
ever there was a case which more than another was suggestive of 
doubt, it is surely one in which so many judges have pronounced 
against the legality of the trial and the validity of the conviction 
on which you are about to pass sentence. Each of these judges, be 
it remembered, held competent in his individuality to administer 
the criminal law of the country — each of whom, in fact, in his in- 
dividuality, does soadminister it, unchallenged and unquestioned. 

" A sentence under such circumstances, be it for a long period or 
a short, would be wanting in the element of moral effect — the effect 
of example — which could alone give it value, and which is pro- 
fessedly the aim of all legal punishment. A sentence under such 
circumstances would be far from reassuring to the public mind as 
to the 'certainties' of the law, and would fail to commend the 
approval or win the respect of any man 'within the realm or with- 
out.' While to the prisoner, to the sufferer-in-chief, it would only 
bring the bitter, and certainly not the repentant feeling that he 
suffered in the wrong — that he was a victim of an injustice based 
on an inference which not even the tyrant's plea of necessity can 
sustain — namely, that at a particular time he was at a distance of 
three thousand miles from the place where he then actually stood in 
bodily presence, and that at that distance he actually thought the 
thoughts and acted the acts of men unknown to him even 
by name. It will bring to the prisoner, I repeat, the feeling — 
the bitter feeling — that he was condemned on an unindicted charge 
pressed suddenly into the service, and for a constructive crime 
which some of the best authorities in the law have declared not to 
be a crime cognizable in any of your courts. 

" Let the Crown put forward any supposition they please — indulge 
in w r hat special pleadings they will — sugar over the bitter pill of 
constructive conspiracy as they can — to this complexion must come 
the triangular injustice of this case — the illegal and unconstitutional 
kidnapping in England — the unfair and invalid trial and conviction 
in Ireland for the alleged offence in another hemisphere and under 
another sovereignty. My lords, I have done." 



SPEECHES FP.OM THE DOCK. 217 



CAPTAIN JOHN M'CLURE. 

Captain John M'Clure, like Captain M'Afferty, was 
an American born, but of Irish parentage. He was born 
at Dobb's Ferry, twenty-twg miles from New York, on 
July 17th, 1846, and he was therefore a mere youth when, 
serving with distinguished gallantry in the Federal ranks, 
he attained the rank of captain. He took part in the 
Fenian rising of the 5th March, and was prominently 
concerned in the attack and capture of Knockadoon 
coast-guard station. He and his companion, Edward 
Kelly, were captured by a military party at Kilclooney 
Woud, on March 31st, after a smart skirmish, in which 
their compatriot, the heroic and saintly Peter Crowley, 
lost his life. His trial took'place before the Special Com- 
mission at Cork, on May 22d and 23d, 1867. The 
following are the spirited and eloquent terms in which he 
addressed the court, previous to sentence being pro- 
nounced on him : — 

"My lords : — In answer to the question as to why the sentence of 
the court should not now be passed upon me, I would desire to 
make a few remarks in relation to my late exertions in behalf of 
the suffering people of this country, in aiding them in their earnest 
endeavors to attain the independence of their native land. Al- 
though not born upon the soil of Ireland, my parents were, and 
from history, and tradition, and fireside relations, I became con- 
versant with the country's history from my earliest childhood ; and 
as the human race will ever possess these godlike qualities which 
inspire mankind with sympathy for the suffering, a desire to aid 
poor Ireland to rise from her moral degradation took possession of 
me. I do not now wish to say to what I assign the failure of that 
enterprise with which are associated my well-meant acts for this 
persecuted land. I feel fully satisfied of the righteousness of my 
every act in connection with the late revolutionarv movement in 
this country, being actuated by a holy desire to assist in the eman- 
cipation of an enslaved and generous people. I derive more 
pleasure from having done the act than from any other event that 
has occurred to me during my eventful but youthful life. I wish it 
to be distinctly understood here, standing as I do, perhaps, on tht 
brink of an early grave, that I am no filibuster or freebooter, and 
that I had no personal object or inclination to gain anything in 



218 SPEECHES PROM THE DOCK. 

coming to this country. I came solely through love of Ireland and 
sympathy for her people. If I have forfeited my life,. I am ready to 
abide the issue. If my exertions on behalf of a distressed people 
be a crime, I am willing to pay the penalty, knowing, as I do, that 
what I have done was in behalf of a people whose cause is just — a 
people who will appreciate and honor a man, although he may not 
be a countryman of their own — still a man who is willing to suffer 
in defence of that divine, that American principle — the right of 
self-government. I would wish to tender to my learned and elo- 
quent counsel, Mr. Heron and Mr. Waters, and to my solicitor, Mr. 
Collins, my sincere and heartfelt thanks for the able manner in 
which they have conducted my defence. And now, my lords, I 
trust I will meet in a becoming manner the penalty which it is now 
the duty of your lordships to pronounce upon me. I have nothing 
more to say." 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 219 



EDWARD KELLY. 

On the same occasion the prisoner, Edward Kelly, de- 
livered the following soul-stirring address : — 

" My lords : — The novelty of my situation will plead for any want of 
fluency on my part ; and I beg your lordships' indulgence if I am 
unnecessarily tedious. I have to thank the gentlemen of the jury 
for their recommendation, which I know was well meant ; but know- 
ing, as I do, what that mercy will be, I heartily wish that recom- 
mendation wftl not be received. Why should I feel regret ? What 
is death ? The act of passing from this life into the next. I trust 
that God will pardon me my sins, and that I will have no cause to 
fear entering into the presence of the ever-living and most merciful 
Father. I don't recollect in my life of ever having done anything 
with a deliberately bad intention. In my late conduct I do not see 
anything for regret. Why then, I say, should I feel regret? I 
leave the dread of death to such wretches as Corridon and Massey — 
Corridon, a name once so suggestive of sweetness and peace, now the 
representative of a loathsome monster. If there be anything that 
can sink that man Corridon lower in the scales of degradation, 
it is — " 

The Chief Justice : — " We cannot listen to any imputation on per- 
sons who were examined as witnesses. Strictly speaking, you are 
only to say why sentence of death should not be passed upon you : 
at the same time we are very unwilling to hold a very strict hand, 
but we cannot allow imputations to be made on third persons, 
witnesses or others, who have come forward in this trial.'' 

Prisoner: — "Well, my lord, I will answer as well as I can the 
question put to me. The Irish people, through every generation, 
ever since England has obtained a footing in Ireland, have protested 
against the occupation of our native soil by the English. Surely 
that is answer enough why sentence of death should not be 
passed upon me. In the part I have taken in the late insurrection, I 
feel conscious that I was doing right. Next to serving his Creator, 
I believe it is a man's solemn duty to serve his country. [Here the 
prisoner paused to suppress his emotion, which rendered his utter- 
ance very feeble, and continued.] My lords, I have nothing more 
to say except to quote the words of the sacred Psalmist, in which 
you will understand that I speak of my country as he speaks of 
his :— ' If I forget thee, O Jerusalem ! let my right hand be for- 
gotten. Let my tongue cleave to my jaws if I do not remember 
thee: if I make not Jerusalem the beginning of my joy. Re- 
member, O Lord ! the children of Edom in the day of Jerusalem • 



220 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

who say, raze, raze it, even to the foundation thereof. O daughter 
of Babylon, miserable! blessed be he who shall repay thee thy 
payment which thou hast paid us.' In conclusion, my lords, I 
wish to give my thanks to my attorney, Mr. Collins, for his un- 
tiring exertions, and also to my counsel, Mr. Heron, for his able 
defence, and to Mr. W".terp." 



SPEECHES FEOM THE DOCK. 221 



CAPTAIN WILLIAM MAOKAY. 

In the evidence adduced at the Cork Summer Assizes of 
1867 ; on the trials of persons charged with participation 
in the Fenian -rising of March 5th, the name of Captain 
Mackay frequently turned np. The captain, it would 
appear, was a person of influence and importance in the 
insurrectionary army. He had taken part in many 
councils of the Fenian leaders, he was trusted implicitly 
by his political friends, and much deference was paid to 
his opinion. But more than all this, he had taken the 
field on the night of the rising, led his men gallantly to 
the attack of Ballyknockane police-barrack, and, to the 
great horror of all loyal subjects, committed the enormous 
offence of capturing it. This, and the similar successes 
achieved by Lennon at Stepaside and Glencullen, county 
AVioklow, were some of the incidents of the attempted 
rebellion which most annoyed the government, who well 
knew the influence which such events, occurring at the 
outset of a revolutionary movement, are apt to exercise 
on the popular mind. Captain Mackay, therefore, was 
badly " wanted " by the authorities after the Fenian 
rising ; there was any money to be given for information 
concerning the whereabouts of Captain Mackay, but it 
came not. Every loyal-minded policeman in Cork county, 
and in all the other Irish counties, and every detective, 
and every spy, and every traitor in the pay of the govern- 
ment, kept a sharp look out for the audacious Captain 
Mackay, who had compelled the garrison of one of her 
Majesty's police barracks to surrender to him, and hand 
him up their arms in the quietest and most polite manner 
imaginable ; but they saw him not, or, if they saw, they 
did not recognize him. 

So month after month rolled on, and no trace of 
Captain Mackay could be had. The vigilant guardians 
and servants of English law in Ireland then began to 



222 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

think he must have managed to get clear out of the 
country, and rather expected that the next thing they 
would hear of him would be that he was organizing and 
lecturing amongst the Irish enemies of England in the 
United States. There, however, they were quite mis- 
taken, as they soon found out to their very great vexation 
and alarm. 

On the 27th day of December, 1867, there was strange 
news in Cork, and strange news all over the country, for 
the telegraph wires spread it in every direction. The 
news was, that on the previous evening a party of Fenians 
had entered the Martello tower at Foaty, on the north 
side of the Cork river, made prisoners of the gunners 
who were in charge, and had then taken possession of and 
borne away all the arms and ammunition they could find 
in the place ! Startling news this was undoubtedly. 
Loyal men stopped each other in the streets, and asked 
if anything like it had ever been heard of. They wanted 
to know if things were not coming to a pretty pass, and 
did not hesitate to say they would feel greatly obliged to 
any one who could answer for them the question, " What 
next?" For this sack of the Martello tower was not the 
first successful raid for arms which the Fenians had made 
in that neighborhood. About a month before — on the 
night of November 2Sth — they had contrived to get into 
the shop of Mr. Richardson, gunmaker, Patrick-street, and 
abstract from the premises no fewer than 120 revolvers 
and eight Snider rifles, accomplishing the feat so skilfully 
that no trace either of the weapons or the depredators 
had since been discovered. This was what might be 
called a smart stroke of work, but it shrunk into insigni- 
ficance compared with the audacious act of plundering 
one of her Majesty's fortified stations. 

The details of the affair, which were soon known, were 
received by the public with mingled feelings of amuse- 
ment and amazement. The Fenian party, it was learned, 
had got into the tower by the usual means of entrance — 
a step-ladder, reaching to the door, which is situated at 
some height from the ground. One party of the invaders 
remained" in the apartment just inside the entrance door, 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 223 

while another, numbering five persons, proceeded to an 
inner room where they found two of the gunners, with 
their families, just in the act of sitting down to tea. In 
an instant revolvers were placed at the heads of the men, 
who were told not to stir on peril of their lives. At the 
same time assurances were given to them and to the 
affrighted women that, if they only kept quiet and com- 
plied with the demands of the party, no harm whatever 
should befall them. The garrison saw that resistance was 
useless, and promptly acceded to those terms. The in- 
vaders then asked for and got the keys of the magazine, 
which they handed out to their friends, who forthwith 
set to work to remove the ammunition which they found 
stored in the vaults. They seized about 300lbs. of gun- 
powder, made up in 8lb. cartridges, a quantity of fuses, 
and other military stores, and then proceeded to search 
the entire building for arms. Of these, however, they 
found very little — nothing more than the rifles and sword 
bayonets of the two or three men who constituted the 
garrison — a circumstance which seemed to occasion them 
much disappointment. They were particularly earnest 
and pressing in their inquiries for hand-grenades, a species 
of missile which they had supposed was always kept u in 
stock" in such places. They could scarcely believe that 
there were none to be had. Some charges of grape-shot 
which they laid hands on might be, they thought, the 
sort of weapon they were in quest of, and they proceeded 
to dissect and analyze one of them. Grape-shot, we 
may explain to the unlearned in these matters, is "an 
assemblage, in the form of a cylindrical column, of nine 
balls resting on a circular plate, through which passes a 
pin serving as an axis. The balls are contained in a 
strong canvas bag, and are bound together on the ex- 
terior of the latter by a cord disposed about the column 
in the manner of a net." This was not the sort of thing 
the Fenian party wanted; grape-shot could be of no use 
to them, for the Fenian organization, to its great sorrow, 
was possessed of no artillery j they resolved, therefore, 
to leave those ingeniously-constructed packages behind 
them, and to retire with the more serviceable spoils they 



224 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

had gathered. While the search was proceeding*, the 
Fenian sentries, with revolvers ready in their hands, 
stood guard over the gunners, and prevented any one — 
young or old — from quitting the room. They spoke 
kindly to all, however, chatted with the women, and 
won the affectionate regards of the youngsters by dis- 
tributing money among them. One of these strange visi- 
tors become so familiar as to tell one of the women that 
if she wished to know who he was, his name w T as Captain 
Mac — a piece of information which did njt strike her 
at the time as being of any peculiar value. When the 
party had got their booty safely removed from the build- 
ing, this chivalrous captain and his four assistant sentries 
prepared to leave ; they cautioned the gunners, of whom 
there were three at this time in the building — one having 
entered while the search was proceeding — against quitting 
the fort till morning, stating that men would be on the 
watch outside to shoot them if they should attempt it. 
So much being said and done, they bade a polite good 
evening to her Majesty's gunners and their interesting 
families, and withdrew. 

The heroic garrison did not venture out immediately 
after they had been relieved of the presence of the Fenian 
party j but rinding that a few charges of powder were 
still stowed away in a corner of the fort, they hurried 
with them to the top of the building, and commenced to 
blaze away from the big gun which was there in situ. 
This performance they meant as a signal of distress ; but, 
though the sounds were heard and the flashes seen far 
and wide, no one divined the object of what appeared to 
be nothing more than an oddly-timed bit of artillery 
practice. Next morning the whole story was in every 
one's mouth. Vast w r as the amusement which it afforded 
to the Oorkonians generally, and many were the enco- 
miums which they passed on the dashing Irish-Americans 
and smart youths of Cork's own town who had accom- 
plished so daring and clever a feat. Proportionally great 
was the irritation felt by the sprinkling of loyalists and 
by the paid servants of the Crown in that quarter. One 
hope, at all events, the latter party had, that the leader in 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 225 

the adventure would soon be " in the hands of justice;" 
and one comforting assurance, that never again would the 
Fenians be able to replenish their armory in so easy and 
so unlawful a manner. 

Four days afterwards there was another " sensation n 
in Cork. The Fenian collectors of arms had made another 
haul ! And this time their mode of action surpassed all 
their previous performances in coolness and daring. At 
nine o'clock in the morning, on the 30th of December, 
eight men, who had assumed no disguise, suddenly 
entered the shop of Mr. Henry Allport, gunmaker, of 
Patrick-street, and producing revolvers from their pockets, 
covered him and his two assistants, telling them at the 
same time that, if they ventured to stir, or raise any 
outcry, they were dead men. While the shopmen re- 
mained thus bound to silence, five of the party proceeded 
to collect all the rifles and revolvers in the establishment, 
and place them in a canvas sack which had been brought 
for the purpose. This sack, into which a few guns and 
seventy-two splendid revolvers of the newest construction 
had been put, was then carried off by two men, who, 
having transferred the contents to the safe-keeping of 
some confederate, returned with it very quickly to re- 
ceive and bear away a large quantity of revolver car- 
tridges which had been found in the shop. This second 
" loot n having been effected, the guards who stood over 
Mr. Allport and his men, lowered their weapons, and 
after cautioning all three not to dare to follow them, 
quitted the shop in a leisurely manner, and disappeared 
down one of the by-streets. As soon as he was able to 
collect his scattered wits, Mr. Allport rushed to the 
nearest police station, and gave information of what had 
occurred. The police hastened to the scene of this daring 
exploit, but of course the " birds were flown," and no one 
could say whither. 

Needless to say how this occurrence intensified the 
perplexity and the rage of the government party in all 
parts of the country. There was surely some fierce 
swearing in Dublin Castle on the day that news arrived ; 
and perhaps many a passionate query blurted out as to 



226 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

whether police, detectives, magistrates, and all in that 
southern district, were not secretly in league with the 
rebels. In fact, a surmise actually got into the papers 
that the proprietors of the gunshops knew more about 
the disappearance of the arms, and were less aggrieved 
by the " seizure, 77 than they cared to acknowledge. How- 
ever this might be, the popular party enjoyed the whole 
thing immensely, laughed over it heartily, and expressed 
in strong terms their admiration of the skill and daring 
displayed by the operators. The following squib, which 
appeared in the Nation at the time, over the initials 
" T. D. S., 77 affords an indication of the feelings excited 
among Irish nationalists by those extraordinary occur- 
rences : — 



THE COEK MEN AND NEW YORK MEN". 

" Oh, the gallant Cork men, 

Mixed with New York men, 
I'm sure their equals they can't be found ; 

For persevering 

In deeds of daring, 
They set men staring the world around. 

No spies can match them, 

No sentries watch them, 
No specials catch them or mar their play, 

While the clever Cork men 

And 'cute New York men 
Work new surprises by night and day. 



"Sedate and steady, 

Calm, quick, and ready, 
They boldly enter, and make no din, 

Where'er such trities 

As Snider riHes 
And bright six-shooters are stored within. 

The Queen's round towers 

Can't baulk their powers, 
Off go the weapons by sea and shore, 

To where the Cork men 

And smart New York men 
Are daily piling their precious store. 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 227 

" John Bull, in wonder, 

With voice like thunder, 
Declares such plunder he must dislike, 

They next may rowl in 

And sack Haulbowline, 
Or on a sudden run oft' with Spike. 

His peace is vanished, 

His joys are banished, 
And gay or happy no more he'll be, 

Until those Cork men 

And wild New York men 
Are sunk together beneath the. sea. 

"O bold New York men 

And daring Cork men ! 
We own your pleasures should all grow dim, 

On thus discerning 

And plainly learning 
That your amusement gives pain to him. 

Yet, from the nation, 

This salutation 
Leaps forth, and echoes with thunderous sound— 

• Here's to all Coi'k men, 

Likewise New York men, ' 
Who stand for Ireland, the world around!'" 

But Captain Mackay, skilful and " lucky " as he was, 
was trapped at last. 

On the evening of the 7th of February, 1S68, he walked 
into the grocery and spirit shop of Mr. Cronin in Market- 
street — not to drink whiskey or anything of that sort, 
for he was a man of strictly temperate habits, and he 
well knew that, of all men, those who are engaged in the 
dangerous game of conspiracy and revolution can least 
afford to partake of drinks that may unloose their tongues 
and let their wits run wild. He called for a glass of 
lemonade, and recognizing some persons who were in the 
shop at the time, he commenced a conversation with 
them. 

Only a few minutes from the time of his entrance had 
elapsed when a party of police, wearing a disguise over 
their uniforms, rushed into the shop, and commanded 
the door to be shut. 

The men inside attempted to separate and escape, but 
they were instantly grappled by the police. One of the 



2S8 SPEECHES EROM THE DOCK. 

force seized Captain Mackay by the collar, and a vigorous 
struggle between them at once commenced. The police- 
man was much the larger man of the two. but the Fenian 
captain was wiry and muscular, and proved quite a 
match for him. They fell and rose, and fell an<i 
again, the policeman undermost sometimes, and at other 
times the Fenian captain. They struggled for nearly 
twenty 

•• Dead or alive, I'll take you," said the policeman, as 
he drew his revolver from his poci 

•■ I have but one life to lose, and if it goes, so be 
replied Ma iwing a weapon of the same kind. 

I:, another instant tfa a a clash as of striking 

steel, t one of the weapons. 

M G I'm sh :'." exclaimed Constable C 

from the end of the room, and he fell upon the fl 

tain Mackay's revolver Lad gone off in -?l e > 

and th stable in the leg 

ing on him a Be and. 

By this time several parties of police had arrived in 

I and stationed themselves so as to prevent the 

formation 1, and deter the people from any at- 

rescue. A reinforcement having turned int 
house in which the struggle was going on. Captain 
and others sen in his company, were 

made prisoners, and marched off in 

ys afterwards, the wounded constable, who 
. : to amputation oi 
limb, died in hospital. 

the 10th of March, 1868, at the Cork Ase 
Jndg a in presiding, Captain Mackay was put on 

his trial for murder. T 

bility that the _•.•• of the prisoner's revolvei 

not intended or effected by him, but was pence 

of its having been struck by the revolver of the police- 
man who was struggling with him. The verdict of the 
jury, therefore .cquittal. 

But then came the othei _ _ linst him, the charge 

of treason-felony, f.jr his connection ^itu the 1 
Brotherhood, and his part in the recent "rising." For 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 229 

this he was put on trial on the 20th day of March. He 
was ably defended by Mr. Heron, Q. 0., but the evidence 
against him was conclusive. To say nothing of the tes- 
timony of the informers, which should never for a mo- 
ment be regarded as trustworthy, there was the evidence 
and the identification supplied by the gunners of the 
Martello tower and their wives, and the policemen of 
Ballyknockane station and the wife of one of them. 
This evidence, while establishing the fact that the prisoner 
had been concerned in the levying of war against the 
Crown, established also the fact that he was a man as 
chivalrous and gentle as he was valorous and daring. 
Some of the incidents proved to have occurred during 
the attack which was made, under his leadership, on the 
police barrack, are worthy of special mention in any 
sketch, however brief, of the life and adventures of this 
remarkable man. After he, at the head of his party, had 
demanded the surrender of the barrack in the name of 
the Irish Republic, the police fired, and the fire was re- 
turned. Then the insurgents broke in the door, and set 
fire to the lower part of the barrack. Still the police 
held out. " Surrender !" cried the insurgents. " You 
want to commit suicide, but ive don't want to commit murder. 77 
One of the policemen cried out that a little girl, his 
daughter, was inside, and asked if the attacking party 
would allow her to be passed out ? Of course they 
would, gladly ; and the little girl was taken out of the 
window with all tenderness, and given up to her mother 
who had chanced to be outside the barrack when the 
attack commenced. At this time a Catholic clergyman, 
the Rev. Mr. Neville, came on the spot. He asked the 
insurgent leader whether, if the police surrendered, any 
harm would be done to them ? " Here is my revolver," 
said Captain Mackay "let the contents of it be put 
through me if one of them should be injured." Well did 
Mr. Heron, in his able speech referring to these facts, 
say : " Though they were rebels who acted that heroic 
part, who could say their hearts were not animated 
with the courage of Leonidas, and the chivalry of Bayard F' 
On the second day of the trial the jury brought in 



230 SPEECHES FHOM THE DOCK. 

their verdict, declaring the prisoner guilty, but at the 
same time recommending him to the merciful considera- 
tion of the court, because of the humanity which he 
had displayed towards the men whom he had in his 
power. The finding took no one by surprise, and did 
net seem to trouble the prisoner in the faintest degree. 
During the former trial some shades of anxiety might 
have been detected on his features ; the charge of u mur- 
der " was grievous to him, but when that was happily 
disposed of, the world seemed to brighten before him, 
and he took his treason-felony trial cheerily. He knew 
what the verdict on the evidence would be, and he was 
conscious that the penalty to be imposed on him would 
be no trivial one 5 he felt that it was hard to part from 
faithful comrades and dear friends, and, above all, from 
the young wife whom he had married only a few short 
months before ; but then it was in Ireland's cause he was 
about to suffer, and for that he could endure all. 

And yet, Ireland was not his native land. He was 
born in Cincinnati, Ohio, in the year 1841. Bat his 
parents, who were natives of Castle-Lyons, near Fermoy, 
in the county Cork, were true children of Erin, and 
they taught their son to love, even as they did them- 
selves, that green isle far away, from which a hard fate 
had compelled them to roam. Patriotism, indeed, was 
hereditary in the family The great-grandfather of our 
hero suffered death for his fidelity to the cause of Ire- 
land in the memorable year 1798 ; and a still more re- 
markable fact is, that Captain Mackay— or William Francis 
Lomasney, to call him by his real name — in leaving 
America for Ireland, in 1865, to take part iu the contem- 
plated, rising, merely took the place which his father 
wished and intended to occupy. The young man in- 
duced him to remain at home, and claimed for himself 
the post of danger. Well may that patriotic father be 
proud of such a son. 

When called upon for such remarks as he might have 
to offer on his own behalf, Captain Mackay, without any 
of the airs of a practised speaker, but yet with a manner 
that somehow touched every heart, and visibly affected 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 231 

the humane and upright judge who sat on the bench, de- 
livered the following address : — 

"My lord: — What I said last evening I think calls for a little ex- 
planation. I then said I was fully satisfied with the verdict — that 
it was a fair and just one. I say so still ; hut I wish to state that I 
consider it only so in accordance with Bi itish law, and that it is 
not in accordance with my ideas of right and justice. I feel that, 
with the strong evidence there was against me, according to British 
law, the jury could not, as conscientious men, do otherwise. I feel 
that. I thank them again for their recommendation to mercy, 
which, I have no doubt, was prompted by a good intention towards 
me, and a desire to mitigate Avhat they considered would be a long 
and painful imprisonment. Still, I will say, with all respect, that 
1 feel the utmost indifference to it. I do so for this reason— I am 
now in that position that I must rely entirely upon the goodness of 
God, and I feel confident that He will so dispose events that I will 
not remain a prisoner so long as your lordship may be pleased to 
decree. The jury having now found me guilty, it only remains for 
your lordship to give effect to their verdict. The eloquence, the 
ability, the clear reasoning, and the really splendid arguments of 
my council, failed, as I knew they would, to affect the jury. I fee], 
therefore, that with my poor talents it would be utterly vain and 
useless for me to attempt to stay the sentence which it now becomes 
your lordship's duty to pronounce. I believe, my lord, from what I 
have seen of your lordship, and what I have heard of you, it will 
be to you a painful duty to inflict that sentence upon me. To one 
clinging so much to the world and its joys — to its fond tie's and 
pleasant associations, as I naturally do, retirement into banishment 
is seldom — very seldom — welcome. Of that, however, I do not 
complain. But to any man whose heart glows with the warmest 
impulses and the most intense love of freedom; strongly attached 
to kind friends, affectionate parents, loving brother and sisters, and 
a devotedly fond and loving wife, the contemplation of a long 
period of imprisonment must appear most terrible and appalling. 
To me, however, viewing it from a purely personal point of view, 
and considering the cause for which I am about to suffer, far from 
being dismayed — far from its discouraging me — it proves to me 
rather a source of joy and comfort. True, it is a position not to 
be sought— not to be looked for; it is one which, for many, very 
many reasons there is no occasion for me now to explain, may be 
thought to involve disgrace or discredit. But so far from viewing 
it in that light, I do not shink from it, but accept it readily, 
feeling proud and glad that it affords me an opportunity of proving 
the sincerity of those soul-elevating principles of freedom which a 
good old patriotic father instilled into my mind from my earliest 
years, and which I still entertain with a strong love, whose fervor 
and intensity are second only to the sacred homage which we owe 
to God. If, having lost that freedom, I am to be deprived of all 
those blessings — those glad and joyous years I should have spent 



232 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 



amongst loving friends — I shall not complain, I shall not murmur, 
hut, with calm resignation and cheerful expectation, I shall joyfully 
submit to God's blessed will, feeling confident that He will open 
the strongly locked and barred doors of British prisons. Till that 
glad time arrives, it is consolation and reward enough for me to 
know that I have the fervent prayers, the sympathy and loving 
blessings of Ireland's truly noble and generous people, and far 
easier, more soothing and more comforting to me will it be to go 
back to my cheerless cell, than it would be to live in slavish ease 
and luxury — a witness to the cruel sufferings and terrible miseries 
of this down-trodden people. Condemn me, then, my lord — con- 
demn me to a felon's doom. To-night I will sleep in a prison cell, 
to-morrow I will wear a convict's dress, but to me it will be a far 
nobler garb than the richest dress of slavery. Coward slaves they 
be who think the countless sufferings and degradation of prison life 
disgrace a man. I feel otherwise. It is as impossible to subdue 
the soul animated with freedom as it will be for England to crush the 
resolute will of this nation, determined as it is to be free, or perish 
in the attempt. According to British law, those acts proved against 
me— fairly proved against me, I acknowledge — may be crimes, but 
morally, in the eyes of freemen and the sight of God, they are 
more ennobling than disgraceful. Shame is only a connection with 
guilt. It is surely not a crime to obey God's law, or to assist our 
fellow-men to acquire those God-given rights which no men — no 
nation — can justly deprive them of. If love of freedom and a de- 
sire to extend its unspeakable blessings to all God's creatures irre- 
spective of race, creed, or color, be a crime — if devotion to Ireland, 
and love of its faithful, its honest, its kindly people be a crime, 
then I say I proudly and gladly acknowledge my guilt.. If it is 
a disgrace, all I can say is, I glory in such shame and dishonor ; 
and, with all respect for the court, I hold in thorough and utmost 
contempt the worst punishment that can be inflicted upon me, so 
far as it is intended to deprive me of this feeling, and degrade me 
in the eyes of my fellow-men. Oh! no, it. is impossible, my lord; 
the freeman's soul can never be dismayed. England will most 
miserably fail if she expects by force and' oppression to crush out — 
to stamp out, as the Times exclaimed — this glorious longing for 
national life and independence which now fills the breasts of 
millions of Irishmen, and which only requires a little patience and 
the opportunity to effect its purpose. Much has been said, on these 
trials, on the objects and intentions of Fenianism. I feel confidently, 
my lord, as to my own motives. I shall not be guilty of the egotism 
to say whether they are pure or otherwise. I shall leave that to 
others to judge. I am not qualified to judge that myself; but I 
know in my soul that the motives which prompted me were pure, 
patriotic, and unselfish. I know the motives that actuate the most 
active members of the Fenian organization; and I know that very 
few persons, except such contemptible wretches as Corridon, have 
profited by their connection with Fenianism. My best friends lost 
all they ever possessed by it. Talbot and Corridon, I believe, have 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. ' 233 

sworn on previous trials that it was the intention of the Fenians to 
have divided the lands of Ireland amongst themselves in the event 
of success. Though an humble member of the organization, I have 
the honor and satisfaction of being acquainted with the great ma- 
jority of the leaders of Fenianism oti both sides of the Atlantic ; 
and I never knew one of them to have exhibited a desire other than 
to have the proud satisfaction of freeing Ireland, which was the 
only reward they ever yearned for — the only object that ever ani- 
mated them. As to myself, I can truly say that I entered into this 
movement without any idea of personal aggrandizement. When, 
in 1865, I bade my loving friends and parents good-by in America, 
and [came to Ireland, I was fully satisfied with the thought that I 
was coming to assist in the liberation of an enslaved nation; and I 
knew that the greatest sacrifices must be endured on our parts be- 
fore the country could be raised to that proud position which is so 
beautifully described by the national poet as :— 

1 Great, glorious, and free, 
First flower of the earth, first gem of the sea.' 

Well, it was with that only wish and that only desire 1 came to 
Ireland, feeling that to realize it were to an honest man a greater 
reward than all the honors and riches and power this world could 
bestow. I cannot boast of learning, my lord; I have not had much 
opportunity of cultivating those talents with which Providence 
may have blessed me. Still I have read sufficient of the world's 
history to know that no people ever acquired their liberty without 
enormous sacrifices — without losing, always, I may say, some of 
the purest, bravest, and best of their children. Liberty, if worth 
possessing, is surely worth struggling and fighting for ; and in this 
struggle — of which, although the crown lawyers and the govern- 
ment of England think they have seen the end, but of which I tell 
them they have not yet seen the commencement — I feel that enor- 
mous sacrifices must be made. Therefore, my lord, looking straight 
before me now, I say I was determined and was quite ready to 
sacrifice my life, if necessary, to acquire that liberty ; and I am not 
now going to be so mean-spirited, so cowardly, or so contemptible, 
as to shrink from my portion of the general suffering. I am ready, 
then, for the sentence of the court, satisfied that I have acted right, 
confident that I have committed no wrong, outrage, or crime what- 
ever, and that I have cast no disgrace upon my parents, my friends, 
upon my devoted wife, or upon myself. I am. with God's assist- 
ance, ready to meet my fate. I rest in the calm resignation of a 
man whose only ambition through life has been to benefit and free, 
not to injure, his fellow- men ; and whose only desire this moment 
is to obtain their prayers and blessings. With the approval of my 
own conscience, above all hoping for the forgiveness of God tor 
anything I may have done to displease Him, and relying upon His 
self-sustaining grace to enable me to bear any punishment, no 
matter how severe, so long as it is for glorious old Irelaud. 
I had intended, my lord, to refer to my notes which I took at 



234 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

the trial ; but I feel that was so ably done by my counsel, it would 
be a mere waste of time for me to do so, bat I just wish to make an 
explanation. Sir C. O'Loghlen made a statement— unintentionally 
I am sure it was on his part — which may or may not affect me. He 
said I sent a memorial to the Lord Lieutenant praying to be re- 
leased from custody. I wish to say I sent no such thing. The 
facts of the matter are these:— I was liberated in this court' because 
in reality the Crown could not make out a case against me at the 
time ; and as I could, at the same time, be kept in prison until the 
next assizes, I, on consultation with my friends and with my fellow- 
captive, Captain M'Afferty, consented* as soon as I should receive 
a remittance from my friends in America, to return there. On 
these conditions I was set at liberty, understanding, at the same 
time, that, if found in the country by the next assizes, I would be 
brought up for trial. I did not want to give annoyance, and I 
said I would go to America. I honestly intended to do so then — 
not, however, as giving up my principles, but because I saw there 
was no hope of an immediate rising in Ireland. While agreeing 
to those conditions, I went to Dublin, and there met M'Afferty, and 
it was on that occasion I made the acquaintance of Corridon. I 
met him purely accidentally. He afterwards stated that he saw me 
in Liverpool, but he did not see me there. I went over with an ob- 
ject, and while there I was arrested by anticipation, before the 
Habeas Corpus Act was really suspended. I defy the government 
to prove I had any connection with Fenianism from the time I was 
released from Cork jail until February, 1867. I was afterwards 
removed to Mountjoy prison, and, while there, Mr. West came to 
me and said he understood I was an American citizen, and asked 
why I did not make that known. I said I had a double reason — 
first, because I expected the Crown would see they had broken their 
pledge with me in having been so soon arrested : and also that I 
expected my government would make a general demaud for all its 
citizens. By Mr. West's desire I put that statement in writing; 
and I do not think that there is a word in it that can be construed 
into a memorial to the Lord Lieutenant. One of the directors of 
the prison came to me and asked me was I content to comply with 
the former conditions, and I said I was. I was liberated upon 
those conditions, and complied with them ; but there was no con- 
dition whatever named that I was never to return to Ireland, nor to 
fight for Irish independence. At that time I would sooner have 
remained in prison than enter into any such compact. Now. with 
reference to Corridon 's information. He states he met me in 
Liverpool after the rising, and I stated to him that somebody ' sold 
the pass' upon us — to use the Irish phrase. Now, it is a strange 
thing, my lord, that he got some information that was true, and 1 
really was in Liverpool, but not with the informer. The fact is, 
the month previous to that I knew, and so did M'Afferty, that 
Corridon had sold us. We left instructions at Liverpool to have 
him watched, but owing to circumstances it is needless now to 
refer to, that was not attended to, and he came afterwards to Ireland 



SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 235 

and passed as a Fenian, and the parties here, not knowing he had 
betrayed them, still believed in him. Bat I knew very well that 
Coradon had betrayed that Chester affair, and so did Captain 
M'Afferty ; and it I had met him at that time in Liverpool, I don't 
think it would be he I would inform of our plans. I only want 
to show, my lord, how easily an informer can concoct a scene. I 
never in my life attended that meeting that Corridon swore to. All 
his depositions with respect to me are false. I did meet him twice 
in Dublin, but not on the occasions he states. I wish to show how 
an informer can concoct a story that it will be entirely out of the 
power of the prisoner to contradict. With reference to the witness 
Cm tin, whom I asked to have produced — and the Crown did pro- 
duce all the witnesses I asked for — your lordship seemed to be 
under the impression that I did not produce him because he might 
not be able to say I was not in his house that night. Now, the fact 
is that, as my attorney learned the moment Mr. Curtin was brought 
to town, he knew nothing whatever about the circumstance, as he 
was not in his own tavern that night at all. That was why I did 
not produce the evidence. But 1 solemnly declare I never was in 
Curtin's public-house in my life till last summer, when I went in 
with a friend on two or three occasions, and then for the first time. 
That must have been in June or July, after the trials were over in 
Dublin. So that everything Corridon said in connection with my 
being there that night was absolutely false. I solemnly declare I 
was never there till some time last summer, when I went in under 
the circumstances I have stated. In conclusion, my lord, though 
it may not be exactly in accoi dance with the rules of the court, I 
wish to return your lordship my most sincere thanks for your fair 
and impartial conduct during this trial. If there was anything 
that was not impartial in it at all, I consider it was only in my 
favor, and not in favor of the Crown. This I consider is the duty 
of a judge, and what every judge should do — because the prisoner 
is always on the weak side, and cannot say many things he would 
wish ; while the Crown, on the other hand, have all the power and 
influence that the law and a full exchequer can give them. I must 
also return my sincere and heartfelt thanks to my able and distin- 
guished counsel, who spoke so eloquently in my favor. As for 
Mr. Collins, I feel I can never sufficiently thank him. He served 
me on my trial at a great sacrifice of time and money, with noble 
zeal and devotion, such as might be more readily expected from a 
friend than a solicitor. There are many more I would like to 
thank individually, but, as this may not be the proper time and 
place to do so, I can only thank all my friends from the bottom of 
my heart. I may mention the name at least of Mr. Joyce, who, in 
the jail, showed a great deal of kind feeling and atteution. And 
now, my lord, as I have already stated, 1 am ready for my sentence. 
I feel rather out of place in this dock (the prisoner here smiled 
gently). It is a place a man is very seldom placed in, and even if 
he is a good speaker, he might be put out by the circumstance of 
having to utter his remarks from this place. But speaking at all 



236 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 

is not, ray forte; and there are such emotions filling my breast at 
this moment that I may be pardoned for not saying, all I would 
wish. My heart is filled with thoughts of kind friends — near at 
hand and far away — of father and mother, brothers and sisters, and 
my dear wife. Thoughts of these fill my breast at this moment, 
and check my utterance. But I will say to them that I am firmly 
convinced I will yet live to see, and that God will be graciously 
pleased in His own good time to order, the prosperity and freedom 
of this glorious country. I would only repeat the powerful, touch- 
ing, and simple words of Michael Larkin, the. martyr of Manchester, 
who. in parting from his friends, said, ( God be with you, Irishmen 
and Irishwomen ;' and the burning words of my old friend, Edward 
O'Mara Condon, which are now known throughout Ireland and the 
world, 'God save Ireland!' And I, too, would say, 'God be with 
you, Irish men and women ; God save you ; God bless Ireland; and 
God grant me strength to bear my task for Ireland as becomes a 
man. Farewell ! ' (A sound of some females sobbing was here 
heard in the gallery. Several ladies in court, too, visibly yielded 
to emotion at this point. Perceiving this, the prisoner continued: — ) 
My lord, if I display any emotion at this moment, I trust it will 
not be construed into anything resembling a feeling of despair, for 
no such feeling animates me. I feel, as I have already said, confi- 
dence in God. I feel that I will not be long in imprisonment; 
therefore I am just as ready to meet my fate now as I was six weeks 
ago, or as I was six months ago. I feel confident that there is a 
glorious future in store for Ireland, and that, with a little patience, 
a little organization, and a full trust in God on the part of the Irish 
people, they will be enabled to obtain it at no distant date." 

During the concluding passages of this address many 
persons sobbed and wept in various parts of the court. 
At its close the learned judge, in language that was really 
gentle, considerate, and even complimentary towards the 
prisoner, and in a voice shaken by sincere emotion, 
declared the sentence which he felt it to be his duty to 
impose. It was penal servitude for a term of twelve years. 




THE "ERIN'S HOPE" SALUTING THE GREEN FLAG. 



« GOD SAVE IRELAND: 7 



THE 



DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD 

THE MANCHESTER TRAGEDY: 



AND 



THE CRUISE OF THE JACKMEL. 



" Far dearer the grave and the prison 

Illumed by one patriot's name, 
Than the trophies of all who have risen, 

On liberty's ruins, to fame." 

—Moore. 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 



The 23d day of November, 1867, witnessed a strange and 
memorable scene in tbe great English city of Manchester 
Lon<r ere the grey winter's morning struggled n through 
riie crisp, frosty air-long ere the first gleam .of W 
day dulled the glare of the flaming gas jets he streets of the 
Lancashire capital were all astir with bus ling crowds and 
the silence of the night was broken by the cease ess foot- 
fa Is and the voices of hurrying throngs Through the long 
dim streets, and past tall rows of silent houses the fall ^ide 
of life eddied and poured in rapid current ; stout buighers, 
^ lose y inuffled anfl P staff in hand; children grown _ 
turely old, with the hard marks of vice already branded on 
thrif features ; young girls with flaunting ribbons and bold, 
filled faces;Valeope ra tives,and strong men whosebrawny 

Cbs told of [he Titanic labors of the foundry ; the .cfark 
from his desk ; the shopkeeper from his store ; the withered 
crone, and the careless navvy, swayed and giggled through 
the livino- mass ; and with them trooped the legions ot want 
Ind vicetand ignorance, that burrow and fester in tbe , fetid 
lanes and purlieus of the large British cities ; fiom the daik 
allevs where misery and degradation forever dwell, and horn 
racking cellars aJnamelels haunts where the twin demons 
of alcohol and crime rule supreme ; from the g^P^*™ 
the beer-shop, and the midnight haunts of the tramp and the 
burglar, they came in all their repulsivenes s and de base- 
ment, with the rags of wretchedness upon their backs and 
the cries of profanity and obscenity upon their lips. J™j 
they rushed in a surging flood through many a sheet and 
bv-way, until where the narrowing thoroughfares open into 
tie spa y ce surrounding the New Bailey Prison m that subnrb 
of the great city known as the Borough of Saltorrt, tuey 



4 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

found their further progress arrested. Between them and 
the massive prison walls rose piles of heavy barricading-, 
and the intervening space was black with a dense body of 
men, all of whom faced the gloomy building beyond, and 
each of whom carried a special constable's baton in his hand. 
The long railway bridge running close by was occupied by 
a detachment of infantry, and from the parapet of the 
frowning walls the muzzle of cannon, trained on the space 
below, might be dimly discerned in the darkness. But 
the crowd paid little attention to these extraordinary 
appearances ; their eyes were riveted on the black projection 
wdiich jutted from the prison wall, and which, shrouded in 
dark drapery, loomed with ghastly significance through the 
haze. Rising above the scaffold, which replaced a portion 
of the prison wall, the outlines of a gibbet were descried ; 
and from the cross-beam there hung three ropes, terminating 
in nooses, just perceptible above the upper edge of the 
curtain which extended thence to the ground. The grim 
excrescence seemed to possess a horrible fascination for the 
multitude. Those in position to see it best stirred not from 
their post, but faced the fatal cross- tree, the motionless ropes, 
the empty platform, with an untiring, an insatiable gaze, 
that seemed pregnant with some terrible meaning, while the 
mob behind them struggled, and pushed, and raved, and 
fought ; and the haggard hundreds of gaunt, diseased, 
stricken wretches, that vainly contested with the stronger 
types of ruffianism for a place, loaded the air with their 
blasphemies and imprecations. The day broke slowly and 
doubtfully upon the scene; a dense, yellow, murky fog 
floated round the spot, wrapping in its opaque folds the 
hideous gallows and the frowning mass of masonry behind. 
An hour passed, and then a hoarse murmur swelled up- 
wards from the glistening rows of upturned faces. The 
platform was no longer empty ; three pinioned men, with 
white caps drawn closely over their faces, were 
standing upon the drop. For a moment the crowd 
was awed into stillness; for a moment the responses, 
" Christ have mercy on us," " Christ have mercy on us," 
were heard from the lips of the doomed men, towards 
whom the sea of faces was turned. Then came a dull 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 5 

crash, and the mob swayed backwards for an instant. 
The chop had fallen, and the victims were struggling in 
the throes of a horrible death. The ropes jerked and 
swayed with the convulsive movements of the dying men. 
A minute later, and the vibrations ceased — the end had 
come, the swaying limbs fell rigid and stark, and the souls 
of the strangled men had floated upwards from the cursed 
spot — up from the hateful crowds and the sin-laden atmo- 
sphere — to the throne of the God who made them. 

So perished, in the bloom of manhood, and the flower 
of their strength, three gallant sons of Ireland — so passed 
away the last of the martyred band whose blood has sanc- 
tified the cause of Irish freedom. Far from the friends 
whom they loved, far from the land for which they suffered, 
with the scarlet-clad hirelings of England around them, 
and watched by the wolfish eyes of a brutal mob, who 
thirsted to see them die, the dauntless patriots, who, in 
our own day, have rivalled the heroism and shared the 
fate of Tone, Emmet, and Fitzgerald, looked their last 
upon the world. No prayer was breathed for their parting 
souls — no eye was moistened with regret amongst the 
multitude that stretched away in compact bodies from the 
foot of the gallows; the ribald laugh and the blasphemous 
oath united with their dying breath ; and callously as the 
Roman mob from the . blood-stained amphitheatre, the 
English masses turned homewards from the fatal spot. 
But they did not fall unhonored or unwept. In the 
churches of the faithful in that same city the sobs of 
mournful lamentation were mingled with the solemn 
prayers for their eternal rest; and from thousands of wail- 
ing women and stricken-hearted men, the prayers for 
mercy, peace, and pardon, for the souls of Michael 
O'Brien, William Philip Allen, and Michael 
Larktn, rose upwards to the avenging God. Still less 
were they forgotten at home. Throughout the Irish land, 
from Antrim's rocky coast to the foam-beaten headlands 
of Cork, the hearts of their countrymen were convulsed 
with passionate grief and indignation ; and, blended with 
the, sharp cry of agony that broke from the nation's lips, 
came the murmurs of defiant hatred, and the pledges of a 



6 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

bitter vengeance. Never, for generations, had the minds 
of the Irish people been more profoundly agitated — never 
had they writhed in such bitterness and agony of soul. 
"With knittted brows and burning cheeks, the tidings of 
the bloody deed were listened to. The names of the 
martyred men were upon every lip, and the story of their 
heroism and tragic death was read with throbbing pulse 
and kindling eyes by every fireside in the land. It is to 
assist in perpetuating that story, and in recording for 
future generations the narrative which tells of how Allen, 
O'Brien, and Larkin died, that this narrative is written ; 
and few outside the nation whose hands are red with their 
blood, will deny that at least so much recognition is due 
to their courage, their patriotism, and their fidelity. In 
Ireland we know it will be welcomed ,* amongst a people 
by whom chivalry and patriotism are honored, a story so 
touching and ennobling will not be despised ; and the race 
which guards with reverence and devotion the memories 
of Tone, and Emmet, and the Sheareses, will not soon sur- 
render to oblivion the memory of the three true-hearted 
patriots, who, heedless of the scowling mob, unawed by 
the hangman's grasp, died bravely, that Saturday morning, 
at Manchester, for the good old cause of Ireland. 

Early before daybreak, on the morning of November 
11th, 1867, the policemen on duty in Oak-street, Man- 
chester, noticed four broad-shouldered, muscular men, 
loitering in a suspicious manner about the shop of a 
clothes-dealer in the neighborhood. Some remarks 
dropped by one of the party reaching the ears of the 
policemen, strengthened their impression that an illegal 
enterprise was on foot, and the arrest of the supposed 
burglars was resolved on. A struggle ensued, during 
which two of the suspects succeeded in escaping, but the 
remaining pair, after offering a determined resistance, were 
overpowered and carried off" to the police station. The 
prisoners, who, on being searched, were found to possess 
loaded revolvers on their persons, gave their names as 
Martin Williams and John Whyte, and were charged 
under the Vagrancy Act before one of the city magistrates. 
They declared themselves American citizens, and claimed 



THE DOCK AXD THE SCAFFOLD. 7 

their discharge. Williams said he was a bookbinder out 
of work ; Whyte described himself as a hatter, living on 
the means brought with him from America. The magis- 
trate was about disposing summarily of the case, by sen- 
tencing the men to a few days' imprisonment, when a 
detective officer applied for a remand, on the ground that 
he had reason to believe the prisoners were connected with 
the Fenian conspiracy. The application was granted, 
and, before many hours had elapsed, it was ascertained 
that Martin Williams was no other than Colonel Thomas 
J. Kelly, one of the most prominent of the (O'Mahony- 
Stephens) Fenian leaders, and that John Whyte was a 
brother officer and conspirator, known to the circles of the 
Fenian Brotherhood as Captain Deasey. 

Of the men who had thus fallen into the clutches of the 
British government the public had already heard much, 
and one of them was widely known for the persistency 
with which he labored as an organizer of Fenianism, and 
the daring and skill which he exhibited in the pursuit of 
his dangerous undertaking. Long before the escape of 
James Stephens from Richmond Bridewell startled the 
government from its visions of security, and swelled the 
breasts of their disaffected subjects in Ireland with re- 
kindled hopes, Colonel Kelly was known in the Fenian 
ranks as an intimate associate of the revolutionary chief. 
When the arrest at Fairfield House deprived the organiza- 
tion of its crafty leader, Kelly was elected to the vacant 
post, and he threw himself into the work with all the 
reckless energy of his nature. If he could not be said 
to possess the mental ability or administrative capacity 
essential to the office, he was at least gifted with a variety 
of other qualifications well calculated to recommend him 
to popularity amongst the desperate men with whom he 
was associated. Nor did he prove altogether unworthy of 
the confidence reposed in him. It is now pretty well 
known that the successful plot for the liberation of James 
Stephens was executed under the personal supervision of 
Colonel Kelly, and that he was one of the group of friends 
who grasped the hand of the Head Centre within the 
gates of Richmond Prison on that night in November, 



8 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

'65, when the doors of his dungeon were thrown open. 
Kelly fled with Stephens to Paris, and thence to America, 
where he remained attached to the section of the Brother- 
hood which recognized the authority and obeyed the 
mandates of tho " 0. O. I. R." But the time came when 
even Colonel Kelly and his party lost confidence in the 
leadership of James Stephens. The chief whom they had 
so long trusted, but who had disappointed them by the 
non-fulfilment of his engagement to fight on Irish soil 
before January, '67, was deposed by the last section of 
his adherents, and Colonel Kelly was elected tl Deputy 
Central Organizer of the Irish Republic/ 7 on the distinct 
understanding that he w T as to follow out the policy which 
Stephens had shrunk from pursuing. Kelly accepted the 
post, and devoted himself earnestly to the work. In 
America he met with comparatively little cooperation ; 
the bulk of Irish Nationalists in that country had long 
ranged themselves under the leadership of Colonel W. R. 
Roberts, an Irish gentleman of character and integrity, 
who became the President of the reconstituted organization ; 
and the plans and promises of the u Chatham-street 
wing," as the branch of the Brotherhood which ratified 
Colonel Kelly's election was termed, were regarded, for 
the most part, with suspicion and disfavor. But from 
Ireland there came evidences of a different state of 
feeling. Breathless envoys arrived almost weekly in 
New York, declaring that the Fenian Brotherhood in 
Ireland were burning for the fray — that they awaited the 
landing of Colonel Kelly with feverish impatience — that 
it would be impossible to restrain them much longer from 
fighting — and that the arrival of the military leaders, 
whom America was expected to supply, would be the 
signal for a general uprising. Encouraged by representa- 
tions like these, Colonel Kelly and a cliosen body of 
Irish- American officers departed for Ireland in January, 
and set themselves, on their arrival in the old country, to 
arrange the plans of the impending outbreak. How their 
labors eventuated, and how the Fenian insurrection of 
March, '67, resulted, it is unnecessary to explain ; it is 
enough for our purpose to state that for several months 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 9 

after that ill-starred movement was crushed, Colonel 
Kelly continued to reside in Dublin, moving about with 
an absence of disguise and a disregard for concealment 
which astonished his confederates, but which, perhaps, 
contributed in no slight degree to the success with which he 
eluded the efforts directed towards his capture. At length 
the Fenian organization in Ireland began to pass through 
the same changes that had given it new leaders and 
fresh vitality in America. The members of the organiza- 
tion at home began to long for union with the Irish 
Nationalists, who formed the branch of the Confederacy 
regenerated under Colonel Roberts ; and Kelly, who, 
for various reasons, was unwilling to accept the new 
regime, saw his adherents dwindle away, until at length 
he found himself all but discarded by the Fenian circles 
in Dublin. Then he crossed over to Manchester, where 
he arrived but a few weeks previous to the date of his 
accidental arrest in Oak-street. 

The arrest of Colonel Kelly and his aide-de-camp, as 
the English papers soon learned to describe Deasey, was 
hailed by the government with the deepest satisfaction. 
For years they had seen their hosts of spies, detectives, 
and informers, foiled and outwitted by this daring con- 
spirator, whose position in the Fenian ranks they perfectly 
understood ; they had seen their traps evaded, their bribes 
spurned, and their plans defeated at every turn ; they 
knew, too, that Kelly's success in escaping capture was 
filling bis associates with pride and exultation ; and now 
at last they found the man, whose apprehension they so 
anxiously desired', a captive in their grasp. On the other 
hand, the arrests in Oak-street were felt to be a crushing 
blow to a failing cause by the Fenian circles in Manches- 
ter. They saw that Kelly's capture would dishearten 
every section of the organization ; they knew that the 
broad meaning of the occurrence was, that another Irish 
rebel had fallen into the clutches of the British govern- 
ment, and was about to be added to the long list of their 
political victims. It was felt by the Irish in Manchester, 
to abandon the prisoners helplessly to their fate would 
be regarded as an act of submission to the laws which 



10 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

rendered patriotism a crime, and as an acceptance of the 
policy which left Ireland trampled, bleeding 1 , and impov- 
erished. There were hot spirits amongst the Irish colony 
that dwelt in the great industrial capital, which revolted 
from such a conclusion • and there were warm, impulsive 
hearts which swelled with a firm resolution to change 
the triumph of their British adversaries into disappoint- 
ment and consternation. The time has not yet come 
when anything like a description of the midnight 
meetings and secret councils which followed the 
arrest of Colonel Kelly in Manchester can be written ; 
enough may be gathered, however, from the result, to 
show that the plans of the conspirators were cleverly con- 
ceived and ably digested. 

On Wednesday, September ISth, Colonel Kelly and 
his companion were a second time placed in the dock of 
the Manchester police office. There is reason to believe 
that means had previously been found of acquainting them 
with the plans of their friends outside ; but this hypothesis 
is not necessary to explain the coolness and sang froid 
with which they listened to the proceedings before the 
magistrate. Hardly had the prisoners been put for- 
ward, when the Chief Inspector of the Manchester 
Detective Force interposed. They are both, he said, 
connected with the Fenian rising, and warrants were out 
against them for treason-felony. " Williams," he added, 
with a triumphant air, " is Colonel Kelly, and Whyte, his 
confederate, is Captain Deasey." He asked that they 
might again be remanded, — an application which was 
immediately granted. The prisoners, who imperturbably 
bowed to the detective, as he identified them, smilingly 
quitted the dock, and were given in charge to Police 
Sergeant Charles Brett, whose duty it was to convey thern 
to the borough gaol. 

The van used for the conveyance of prisoners between 
the police office and the gaol was one of the ordinary long 
black boxes on wheels, dimly lit by a grating in the door 
and a couple of ventilators in the roof. It was divided 
interiorly into a row of small cells at either side, and a 
passage running the length of the van between j and 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 11 

the practice was, to lock each prisoner into a separate 
cell, Brett sitting in charge on a seat in the passage, near 
the door. The van was driven by a policeman ; another 
usually sat beside the driver on the box — the whole escort 
thus consisting of three men, carrying no other arms 
than their staves j but it was felt that on the present 
occasion a stronger escort might be necessary. The 
magistrates well knew that Kelly and Deasey had numer- 
ous sympathizers amongst the Irish residents in Manches- 
ter, and their apprehensions were quickened by the receipt 
of a telegram from Dublin Castle, and another from the 
Home Office in London, warning them that a plot was on 
foot for the liberation of the prisoners. The magistrates 
doubted the truth of the information, but they took pre- 
cautions, nevertheless, for the frustration of any such 
enterprise. Kelly and Deasey were both handcuffed, and 
locked in separate compartments of the van; and, instead 
of three policemen, not less than twelve were intrusted 
with its defence. Of this body, five sat on the box-seat, 
two were stationed on the step behind, four followed the 
van in a cab, and one (Sergeant Brett) sat within the van, 
the kevs of which were handed into him through the £ratin£ 
after the door had been locked by one of the policemen 
outside. There were, in all, six persons in the van ; one of 
these was a boy, aged twelve, who was being conveyed to a 
reformatory ; three were women convicted of misdemeanors, 
and the two Irish- Americans completed the number. 
Ouly the last-mentioned pair were handcuffed, and they 
were the only persons whom the constables thought 
necessary to lock up, the compartments in which the 
other persons sat being left open. 

At half-past three o'clock the van drove off, closely fol- 
lowed by the cab containing the balance of the escort. Its 
route lay through some of the principal streets, then 
through the suburbs on the south side, into the borough 
of Salford, where the county jail is situated. In all about 
two miles had to be traversed, and of this distance the 
first half was accomplished without anything calculated to 
excite suspicion being observed ; but there was mischief 
brewing, for all that, and the crisis was close at hand. 



12 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

Just as the van passed under the railway arch that spans 
the Hyde-road at Bellevue, a point midway between the 
city police office and the Salford Gaol, the driver was 
suddenly startled by the apparition of a man standing in 
the middle of the road with a pistol aimed at his head, and 
immediately the astonished policeman heard himself called 
upon, in a loud, sharp voice, to " pull up." At the spot 
where this unwelcome interruption occurred there are but 
few houses ; brick-fields and clay-pits stretch away at 
either side, and the neighborhood is thinly inhabited. 
But its comparative quiet now gave way to a scene of 
bustle and excitement so strange, that it seems to have 
almost paralyzed the spectators with amazement. The 
peremptory command levelled at the driver of the van 
was hardly uttered, when a body of men, numbering about 
thirty, swarmed over the wall which lined the road, and, 
surrounding the van, began to take effectual measures for 
stopping it. The majority of them were well-dressed 
men, of powerful appearance ; a few carried pistols or re- 
volvers in their hands — all seemed to act in accordance 
with a preconcerted plan. The first impulse of the police- 
men in front appears to have been to drive through the 
crowd, but a shot, aimed in the direction of his head, 
brought the driver tumbling from his seat, terror-stricken, 
but unhurt ; and almost at the same time, the further 
progress of the van was effectually prevented by shooting 
one of the horses through the neck. A scene of inde- 
scribable panic and confusion ensued ; the policemen 
scrambled hastily to the ground, and betook themselves 
to flight almost without a thought of resistance. Those in 
the cab behind got out, not to resist the attack, but to 
help the running away ; and in a few minutes the 
strangers, whose object had by this time become perfectly 
apparent, were undisputed masters of the situation. Pick- 
axes, hatchets, hammers, and crowbars were instantly 
produced, and the van was besieged by a score stout pairs 
of arms, under the blows from which its sides groaned, and 
the door cracked and splintered. Some clambered upon 
the roof, and attempted to smash it in with heavy stones; 
others tried to force an opening through the side j while 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 13 

the door was sturdily belabored by another division of the 
band. Seeingthe Fenians, as they at once considered them, 
thus busily engaged, the policemen, who had in the first 
instance retreated to a safe distance, and who were now 
reinforced by a large mob attracted to the spot by the 
report of firearms, advanced towards the van, with the in- 
tention of offering some resistance ; but the storming party 
immediately met them with a counter-movement. Whilst 
the attempt to smash through the van was continued 
without pause, a ring was formed round the men thus 
engaged, by their confederates, who, pointing their 
pistols at the advancing crowd, warned them, as they 
valued their lives, to keep off. Gaining courage from their 
rapidly swelling numbers, the mob, however, continued 
to close in round the van, whereupon several shots 
were discharged by the Fenians, which had the effect 
of making the Englishmen again fall back in confusion. 
It is certain that these shots were discharged for no other 
purpose than that of frightening the crowd ; one of them 
did take effect in the heel of a bystander, but in every 
other case the shots were fired high over the heads of the 
crowd. While this hud been passing around the van, a 
more tragic scene was passing inside it. From the moment 
the report of the first shot reached him, Sergeant Brett 
seems to have divined the nature ami object of the attack. 
" My God ! it's these Fenians," he exclaimed. The noise 
of the blows showered on the roof and sides of the van 
was increased by the shrieks of the female prisoners, who 
rushed frantically into the passage, and made the van 
resound with their wailings. In the midst of the tumult a 
face appeared at the grating, and Brett heard himself sum- 
moned to give up the keys. The assailants had discovered 
where they were kept, and resolved on obtaining them 
as the speediest way of effecting their purpose. {i Give up 
the keys, or they will shoot you," exclaimed the women ; 
but Brett refused. The next instant he fell heavily back- 
wards, with the hot blood welling from a -bullet-wound in 
the head. A shot fired into the keyhole, for the purpose 
of blowing the lock to pieces, had taken effect in his 
temple : the terror-stricken women lifted him up, screaming, 



14 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

" He's killed." As they did so, the voice which had been 
heard before called out to them through the ventilator to 
give up the keys. One of the women then took them from 
the pocket of the dying policeman, and handed them out 
through the trap. The door was at once unlocked, the 
terrified women rushed out, and Brett, weltering in blood, 
rolled out heavily upon the road. Then a pale-faced 
young man, wearing a light overcoat, a blue tie, and a 
tall brown hat, w 7 ho had been noticed taking a prominent 
part in the affray, entered the van, and unlocked the com- 
partment in which Kelly and Deasey were confined. A 
hasty greeting passed between them, and then the trio 
hurriedly joined the band outside. " I told you, Kelly, I 
would die before I parted with you/ 7 cried the young man 
who unlocked the doors ; then seizing Kelly by the arm, 
he helped him across the road, and over the wall, into the 
brick-fields beyond. Here he was taken charge of by 
others of the party, who hurried with him across the country, 
while a similar office was performed for Deasey, who, like 
Colonel Kelly, found himself hampered to some extent by 
the handcuffs on his wrists. The main body of those who 
had shared in the assault occupied themselves with pre- 
venting the fugitives from being pursued ; and not until 
Kelly, Deasey, and their conductors had passed far out of 
sight, did they think of consulting their own safety. At 
length, when further resistance to the mob seemed useless 
and impossible, they broke and fled, some of them occa- 
sionally checking the pursuit by turning around and 
presenting pistols at those who followed. Many of the 
fugitives escaped, but several others were surrounded and 
overtaken by the mob. And now the u chivalry " of the 
English nature came out in its real colors. No sooner 
did the cowardly set, whom the sight of a revolver kept at 
bay while Kelly was being liberated, find themselves with 
some of the Irish party in their power, than they set them- 
selves to beat them with savage ferocity. The young 
fellow who had opened the van door, and who had been 
overtaken by the mob, was knocked down by a blow of a 
brick, and then brutally kicked and stoned; the only 
Englishman who ventured to cry out " shame n being him- 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 15 

self assaulted for his display of humanity. Several others 
were similarly ill-treated ; and not until the blood spouted 
out from the bruised and mangled bodies of the prostrate 
men, did the valiant Englishmen consider they had 
sufficiently tortured, their helpless prisoners. Meanwhile, 
large reinforcements appeared on the spot ; police and 
military were despatched in eager haste in pursuit of the 
fugitives; the telegraph was called into requisition, and a 
description of the liberated Fenians flashed through the 
neighboring towns j the whole detective force of Manches- 
ter was placed on their trail, and in the course of a few 
hours thirty-two Irishmen were in custody, charged with 
having assisted in the attack on the van. But of Kelly 
or Deasey no trace was ever discovered j they were seen 
to enter a cottage not far from the Hyde-road, and leave it 
with their hands unfettered, but all attempts to trace their 
movements beyond this utterly failed. While the author- 
ities in Manchester were excitedly discussing the means to 
be adopted in view of the extraordinary event, Brett lay 
expiring in the hospital to which lie had been conveyed. 
He never recovered consciousness after receiving the 
wound, and he died in less than two hours after the fatal 
shot had been fired. 

Darkness had closed in around Manchester before the 
startling occurrence that had taken place in their midst be- 
came known to the majority of its inhabitants. Swiftly 
the tidings flew throughout the city, till the whisper iu 
which the rumor was first breathed swelled into a roar of 
astonishment and rage. Leaving their houses and leaving 
their work, the people rushed into the streets and trooped 
towards- the newspaper offices for information. The 
rescue of Colonel Kelly and the death of Sergeant Brett 
were described in thousands of conflicting narratives, until 
the facts almost disappeared beneath the mass of inven- 
tions and exaggerations, the creations of excitement and 
panic, with which they were overloaded. Meanwhile the 
police, maddened by resentment and agitation, struck out 
wildly and blindly at the Irish. They might not be able 
to recapture the escaped Fenian leaders, but they could 
load the gaols with their countrymen and co-religionists j 



16 THE DOCK AXD THE SCAFFOLD. 

they might not be able to apprehend the liberators of 
Colonel Kelly and Captain Deasey, but they could 
glut their fury on members of the same nationality : and 
this they did most effectually. The whole night long the 
raid upon the Irish quarter in Manchester was continued ; 
houses were broken into, and their occupants dragged off 
to prison, and thing into cells, chained as though they 
were raging beasts. Mere Irish were set upon in the 
streets, in the shops, in their homes, and hurried off' to 
prison, as if the very existence of the empire depended on 
their being subjected to every kind of brutal violence and 
indignity. The yell for vengeance rilled the air; the cry 
for Irish blood arose upon the night-air like a demoniacal 
chorus; ami before morning broke their fury was some- 
what appeased by the knowledge that sixty of the 
proscribed race — sixty of the hated Irish — were lying 
chained within the prison cells of Manchester. 

Fifteen minutes was the time occupied in setting Kelly 
free — only fifteen minutes ; but during that short space of 
time an act was accomplished which shook the whole 
British Empire to its foundation. From the conspiracy to 
which this daring deed was traceable, the English people 
had already received many startling surprises. The libera- 
tion of James Stephens and the short-lived insurrection 
that rilled the snow-capped hills with hardy fugitives, six 
months before, had both occasioned deep excitement in 
England ; but nothing that Fenianism had yet accom- 
plished acted in the same bewildering manner on the 
English mind. In the heart of one of their largest cities, 
in the broad 'daylight, openly and undisguised ly, a band 
of Irishmen had appeared in arms against the Queen's 
authority, and set the power and resources of the law at 
defiance. They had rescued a co-conspirator from the 
grasp of the government, and slain an otHcer of the law in 
pursuit of their object. Within a few minutes' walk of 
barracks and military depots — in sight of the royal ensign 
that waved over hundreds of her .Majesty's defenders, a 
prison van had been stopped and broken open, and its 
defenders shot and [tut to flight. Never had the English 
people heard of so audacious a proceeding — never did they 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 17 

feel more insulted. From every corner of the land the cry 
swelled up for vengeance fierce and prompt. Victims 
there would be j blood — Irish blood — the people would 
have ; nor were they willing to wait long for it. It might 
be that, falling in hot -haste, the sword of justice might 
strike the innocent, and not the guilty ,' it might be that, 
in the thirst for vengeance, the restraints of humanity 
would be forgotten ; but the English nature, now thor- 
oughly aroused, cared little for such considerations. It 
was Irishmen who had defied and trampled on their 
power; the whole Irish people approved of the act; and 
it mattered little who the objects of their fury might be, 
provided they belonged to the detested race. The 
prisoners, huddled together in the Manchester prisons 
with chains round their limbs, might not be the liberators 
of Colonel Kelly — the slayers of Brett might not be 
amongst them ; but they were Irishmen, at any rate, and 
so they would answer the purpose. Short shrift was the 
cry. The ordinary forms of law, the maxims of the 
constitution, the rules of judicial procedure, the proprie- 
ties of social order and civilization, might be outraged and 
discarded, but speedy vengeance should, at all hazards, 
be obtained. The hangman could not wait for his fee, nor 
the people for their carnival of blood ; and so it was 
settled that, instead of being tried at the ordinary Com- 
mission, in December, a special Commission should be 
issued on the spot for the trial of the accused. 

On Thursday, the 25th of October, the prisoners were 
brought up for committal, before Mr. Fowler, R. M., and 
a bench of brother magistrates. Some of the Irishmen 
arrested in the first instance had been discharged — not 
that no one could be found to swear against them (a 
difficulty which never seems to have arisen in these cases), 
but that the number of witnesses who could swear to their 
innocence w 7 as so great, that an attempt to press for con- 
viction in their cases would be certain to jeopardize the 
whole proceedings. The following is a list of the prisoners 
put forward, the names being, as afterwards appeared, in 
many cases fictitious : — 

William O'Mara Allen, Edward Shore, Henry Wilson, William 



18 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

Gould, Michael Larkin, Patrick Kelly, Charles Moorhouse, John 
Breunan, John Bacon, William Martin, John F. Nugent, James 
Sherry, Robert M'Williams, Michael Maguire, Thomas Maguire, 
Michael Morris, Michael Bryan, Michael Corcoran, Thomas Ryan, 
John Carroll, John Gleason, Michael Kennedy, John Morris, 
Patrick Kelly, Hugh Foley, Patrick Coffey, Thomas Kelly, and 
Thomas Scally. 

It forms no part of our purpose to follow out the 
history of the proceedings in the Manchester court on the 
25th of September and the following days ; but there are 
some circumstances in connection with that investigation 
which it would be impossible to pass over without comment. 
It was on this occasion that the extraordinary sight of men 
being tried in chains was witnessed, and that the represen- 
tatives of the English Crown came to sit in judgment on 
men still innocent in the eyes of the law, yet manacled 
like convicted felons. With the blistering irons clasped 
tight round their wrists, the Irish prisoners stood forward, 
that justice — such justice as tortures men first and tries 
them afterwards — might be administered to them. " The 
police considered the precaution necessary," urged the 
magistrate, in reply to the scathing denunciation of the 
unprecedented outrage which fell from the lips of Mr. 
Ernest Jones, one of the prisoners' counsel. The police 
considered it necessary, though within the court-house no 
friend of the accused could dare to show his face — though 
the whole building bristled with military and with policemen 
with their revolvers ostentatiously displayed: necessary, 
though every soldier in the whole city was standing to 
arms — necessary there, in the heart of an English city, 
with a dense population thirsting for the blood of the 
accused, and when the danger seemed to be, not that they 
might escape from custody — a flight to the moon might be 
equally practicable — but that they might be butchered in 
cold blood by the angry English mob that scowled on 
them from the galleries of the court-house, and howled 
round the building in which they stood. In vain did Mr. 
Jones protest, in scornful words, against the brutal indig- 
nity — in vain did he appeal to the spirit of British justice, 
to ancient precedent and modern practice — in vain did he 
inveigh against a proceeding which forbade the intercourse 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 19 

necessary between him and his clients — and in vain did be 
point out that the prisoners in the dock were guiltless and 
innocent men according to the theory of the law. No 
arguments, no expostulations would change the magistrate's 
decision. Amidst the applause of the cowardly set that 
represented the British public within the court-house, he 
insisted that the handcuffs should remain on ; and then 
Mr. Jones, taking the only course left to a man of spirit 
under the circumstances, threw down his brief and indig- 
nantly quitted the desecrated justice-hall. Fearing the 
consequences of leaving the prisoners utterly undefended, 
Mr. Cottingham, the junior counsel for the defence, refrained 
from following Mr. Jones's example, but he, too, protested 
loudly, boldly, and indignantly against the cowardly out- 
rage, worthy of the worst days of the French monarchy, 
which his clients were being subjected to. The whole 
investigation was in keeping with the spirit evinced by 
the bench. The witnesses seemed to come for the special 
purpose of swearing point-blank against the hapless 
men in the dock, no matter at what cost to truth, and to 
take a fiendish pleasure in assisting in securing their con- 
demnation. One of the witnesses was sure "the whole 
lot of them wanted to murder every one who had any 
property : " another assured his interrogator in the dock 
that " he would go to see him hanged j " and a third had 
no hesitation in acknowledging the attractions which the 
reward offered by the government possessed for his mind. 
Men and women, young and old, all seemed to be possessed 
of but the one idea — to secure as much of the blood-money 
as possible, and to do their best to bring the hated Irish 
to the gallows. Of course, an investigation, under these 
circumstances, could have but one ending, and no one was 
surprised to learn, at its conclusion, that the whole of the 
resolute body of stern-faced men, who, manacled and 
suffering, confronted their malignant accusers, had been 
committed to stand their trial in hot haste for the crime of 
" wilful murder." 

Of the men thus dealt with, there were four with whose 
fate this narrative is closely connected, and whose names 
are destined to be long remembered in Ireland. They have 



20 THE DOCK AST) THE SCAFFOLD. 

won for themselves, by their courage, constancy, and 
patriotism, a fame that will never die ; and through all future 
time they will rank beside the dauntless spirits that in days 
of darkness and disaster perished for the sacred cause of 
Ireland. Great men, learned men, prominent men, they 
were not — they were poor, they were humble, they were 
unknown ; they had no claim to the reputation of the 
warrior, the scholar, or the statesman ; but they labored, 
as they believed, for the redemption of their country from 
bondage ; they rjsked their lives in a chivalrous attempt to 
rescue from captivity two men whom they regarded as 
innocent patriots, and, when the forfeit was claimed, they 
bore themselves with the unwavering courage and single- 
heartedness of Christian heroes. Their short and simple 
annals are easily written ; but their names are graven on the 
Irish heart, and their names and actions will be cherished 
in Ireland when the monumental piles that mark the 
resting-places of the wealthy and the proud have returned, 
like the bodies laid beneath them, to dust. 

William Philip Allen was born near the town of Tippe- 
rary, in April, 1848. Before he was quite three years old 
his parents removed to Bandon, county Cork, where the 
father, who professed the Protestant religion, received the 
appointment of bridewell-keeper. As young Allen grew 
up, he evinced a remarkable aptitude for the acquirement 
of knowledge, and his studious habits were well known to 
his playmates and companions. He was a regular atten- 
dant at the local training-school for the education of teachers 
for the Protestant schools of the parish, but he also received 
instruction at the morning and evening schools conducted 
under Catholic auspices, in the same town. He was not a 
wild boy, but he was quick and impulsive — ready to resent 
a wrong, but equally ready to forgive one; and his natural 
independence of spirit and manly disposition rendered 
him a favorite with all his acquaintances. The influence 
and example of his father did not prevent him from casting 
a wistful eye towards the ancient faith His mother, a 
good, pious Catholic, whose warmest aspiration was to see 
her children in the fold of the true Church, encouraged this 
disposition by all the means in her power; and the result 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 21 

of her pious care shortly became apparent. A mission, 
opened in the town by some Catholic order of priests, com- 
pleted the good work, which the prayers and the example of 
an affectionate mother had commenced ; and young Allen, 
after regularly attending the religious services and exercises 
of the mission, became so much impressed with the truth of 
the lectures and sermons he had listened to, that he formally 
renounced the alien religion, and was received by the re- 
spected parish priest of the town into the bosom of the 
Catholic Church. His only sister followed his example, 
while his brothers, four in number, remained in the Protes- 
tant communion. The subject of our sketch was apprenticed 
to a respectable master carpenter and timber merchant in 
Bandon; but circumstances, highly creditable to the young 
convert, induced the severance of the connection before his 
period of apprenticeship was expired, and we next find him 
working at his trade in Cork, where he remained for some 
six months, after which he returned to Bandon. He next 
crossed over to Manchester, at the request of some near re- 
latives living there. Subsequently he spent a few weeks in 
Dublin, where he worked as builder's clerk ; and finally he 
revisited Manchester, where he had made himself numerous 
friends. It was in the summer of 7 67 that Allen last 
journeyed to Manchester. He was then little more than nine- 
teen years old, but there is reason to believe that he had 
long before become connected with the Fenian conspiracy. 
In his ardent temperament the seeds of patriotism took 
deep and firm root; and the dangers of the enterprise to 
which the Fenians were committed, served only to give it 
a fresh claim upon his enthusiastic nature. When Colonel 
Kelly quitted Dublin and took up his quarters in Man- 
chester, Allen was one of his most trusted and intimate 
associates ; and when the prison door grated behind the 
Fenian leader, it was Allen who roused his countrymen 
to the task of effecting his liberation. Allen had by this 
time grown into a comely young man of prepossessing 
appearance; he was a little over the middle height, well 
shaped, without presenting the appearance of unusual 
strength, and was always seen neatly and respectably 
dressed. His face was pale and wore a thoughtful expres- 



22 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

sion, his features, when in repose, wearing an appearance of 
pensiveness approaching to melancholy. His eyes were 
small, the eyelids slightly marked; a mass of dark hair 
clustered gracefully over a broad pale forehead, while the 
absence of any beard gave him a peculiarly boyish appear- 
ance. Gentle and docile in his calmer moments, when 
roused to action he was all fire and energy. We have seen 
how he bore himself during the attack on the prison van, for 
lie it was whom so many witnesses identified as the pale- 
faced young fellow who led the attack, and whose prophetic 
assurance that he would die for him greeted Colonel Kelly 
on regaining his freedom. During the magisterial inves- 
tigation he bore himself firmly, proudly, and, as the Eng- 
lish papers would have it, defiantly. His glance never 
quailed during the trying ordeal. The marks of the 
brutality of his cowardly captors were still upon him, and 
the galling irons that bound his hands cut into his wrists ; 
but Allen never winced for a moment, and he listened 
to the evidence of the sordid crew, who came to barter 
away his young life, with resolute mien. The triumph 
was with him. Out of the jaws of death he had rescued 
the leader whose freedom he considered essential to the 
success of a patriotic undertaking, and he was satisfied to 
pay the cost of the venture. He had set his foot upon 
the ploughshare, and would not shrink from the ordeal 
which he had challenged. 

Amongst the crowd of manacled men committed for 
trial by the Manchester magistrates, not one presented a 
finer or more impressive exterior than Michael O'Brien, 
set down in the list above given as Michael Gould. 
Standing in the dock, he seemed the impersonation of 
vigorous manhood. Frank, fearless, and resolute, with 
courage and truth imprinted on every feature, he pre- 
sented to the eye a perfect type of the brave soldier. He 
was tall and well proportioned, and his broad shoulders 
and well-developed limbs told of physical strength in 
keeping with the firmness reflected in his face. His gaze, 
when it rested on the unfriendly countenances before him, 
Avas firm and undrooping; but a kindly light lit his hazel 
eyes, and his features relaxed into a sympathizing and 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 23 

encouraging expression as often as he glanced at Allen, 
who stood behind him, or bent his gaze upon any of his 
other fellow-prisoners. O'Brien was born near Bally ma- 
coda, county Cork, the birthplace of the ill-fated and 
heroic Peter Crowley. His father rented a large farm in 
the same parish, but the blight of the bad laws which are 
the curse of Ireland fell upon him, and in the year 1856, 
the O'Briens were flung upon the world, dispossessed of 
lands and home, though they owed no man a penny at the 
time. Michael O'Brien was apprenticed to a draper in 
Youghal, and earned, during the period of his apprentice- 
ship, the respect and esteem of all who knew him. He 
was quiet and gentlemanly in manners, and his character 
for morality and good conduct was irreproachable. Hav- 
ing served out his time in Youghal, he went to Cork, and 
he spent some time as an assistant in one of the leading 
drapery establishments of that city. He afterwards emi- 
grated to America, where some of his relatives were com- 
fortably settled. Like many of the bravest of his fellow- 
countrymen, the outbreak of the civil war kindled a 
military ardor within his bosom, and O'Brien found him- 
self unable to resist the attractions which the soldier's 
career possessed for him. His record throughout the war 
was highly honorable ; his bravery and good conduct 
won him speedy promotion, and long before the termina- 
tion of the conflict he had risen to the rank of lieutenant. 
When his regiment was disbanded he recrossed the Atlan- 
tic, and returned to Cork, where he again obtained 
employment as assistant in one of the large commercial 
establishments. Here he remained until the night before 
the Fenian rising, when he suddenly disappeared, and all 
further trace was lost of him, until arrested for participa- 
tion in the attack upon the prison van in Manchester. 

Close by his side in the dock stood Michael Larkin, an 
intelligent-looking man, older-looking than most of his fel- 
low-prisoners. The following are a few facts relating to 
his humble history : — 

" He was," writes a correspondent who knew him, " a 
native of the parish of Lusmngh, in the south-western 
corner of the King's county, where for many generations 



24 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

his ancestors have been residents on the Cloghan Castle 
estate (then in possession of the O'Moore family), and 
where several of bis relatives still reside; and was grand- 
son to James Qnirke, a well-to-do farmer, who was flogged 
and transported in '98 for complicity in the rebellion of 
that time, and whose name, in this part of the country, is 
remembered with pleasure and affection for his indomitable 
courage and perseverance in resisting the repeated allure- 
ments held out by the corrupt minions of the Crown to induce 
him to become a traitor to his companions and his country. 
But all their importunities were vain; Quirke steadily perse- 
vered in the principles of his gallant leader, Robert Emmet. 
Larkin's father was a respectable tradesman, carrying on 
his business for many years in his native parish ; he 
removed to Parsonstown, where he contrived to impart to 
his son Michael a good English education, and then taught 
him his own profession. When Michael had attained a 
thorough knowledge of his business, he was employed till 
'.58, at Parsonstown ; he then went to England, to improve 
his condition, and after some time he married, and con- 
tinued to work on industriously at his business till May, 
'G7, when he visited his native country, to receive the last 
benediction of his dying father. He again returned to 
England with his wife and family, to resume his employ- 
ment. After some time he was arrested for assisting to 
release two of his fellow-countrymen from bondage. I 
cannot attempt to enumerate the many good qualities of 
the deceased patriot : the paternal affection, exhibited 
from the earliest age; the mildness and affability of 
manner, good temper, affectionate and inoffensive dispo- 
sition ; his sobriety and good moral conduct — endeared 
him to all who had the pleasure and honor of his ac- 
quaintance. Throughout his whole life he was remark- 
able for his i love of country,' and expressions of sincere 
regret for the miserable condition of many of his country- 
men were ever on his lips. He was, in the true sense of 
the idea, a good son, an affectionate husband and father, 
and a sincere friend." 

On Monday, October 28th, the three Irishmen, whose 
lives we have glanced at, were p laced at the bar of the 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 26 

Manchester Assize Court, and formally placed on their 
trial for wilful murder. With them were arraigned 
Thomas Maguire, a private belonging- to the Royal Marines, 
who was on furlough in Liverpool at the time of Kelly's 
liberation, and who was arrested merely because he hap- 
pened to be an Irishman, and who, though perfectly inno- 
cent of the whole transaction, had been sworn against by 
numerous witnesses as a ringleader in the attack ; and 
Edward O'Meagher Condon (alias Shore), a fine-looking 
Irish-American, a citizen of the State of Ohio, against 
whom, like his four companions, true bills had been found 
by the Grand Jury. It would take long to describe the 
paroxysms of excitement, panic, and agitation that raged 
in the English mind from the period that intervened 
between the committal of the prisoners and the date at 
which we are now arrived. Nothing was heard of but 
the Fenians ; nothing was talked of but the diabolical 
plots and murderous designs they w r ere said to be prepar- 
ing. The Queen was to be shot at ; Balmoral w r as to be 
burned down ; the armories had been attacked ; the 
barracks were undermined ; the gas works were to be ex- 
ploded, the bank blown up, the water poisoned. Nothing 
was too infornal or too wicked for the Fenians, and every 
hour brought some addition to the monstrous stock of ca- 
nards. North and south, east and west, the English people 
were in a ferment of anxious alarm ; and everywhere Fe- 
nianisin was cursed as an unholy thing to be cut from society 
as an ulcerous sore — to be banned and loathed as a pesti- 
lence — a foul creation with murder in its glare, and the torch 
of the incendiary burning in its gory hand. Under these 
circumstances, there was little chance that an unpre- 
judiced jury could be empanelled for the trial of the 
Irish prisoners ; and their counsel, seeing the danger, sought 
to avert it by a motion for the postponement of the trials. 
The Home Secretary was memorialed on the subject, and 
the application was renewed before the judges in court, but 
the efforts to obtain justice were fruitless. The blood of 
the British lion was up ; with bloodshot eyes and bristling 
mane he stood awaiting his prey, and there was danger in 
trifling with his rage. Even Special Commissions were 



26 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

voted slow, and a cry arose for martial law, Lynch law, or 
any law that would give the blood of the victims without 
hindrance or delay. So the appeal for time was spurned ; 
the government was deaf to all remonstrance ; British 
blqodthirstiness carried the day, and the trials proceeded 
without interruption. 

We have not patience to rehearse calmly the story of 
these trials, which will long remain the reproach of 
British lawyers. We shall not probe the motives which 
led to the appointment of two such men as Justice Mellor 
and Justice Blackburne as judges of the Commission, but 
history will be at no loss to connect the selection with 
their peculiar character on the bench. Nor shall we analyze 
the speeches of the Attorney-G-eneral and his colleagues, 
in which the passions and prejudices of the jury were so 
dexterously appealed to. The character of the evidence de- 
mands more study. The witnesses consisted of the police- 
men present at the attack, the prisoners who were locked 
with Kelly and Deasey in the van, and the by-standers who 
saw the affray, or assisted in stoning the prisoners before 
and after they were captured. They swore witb the utmost 
composure against the four prisoners. Allen was identified 
as one of the leaders, and he it was whom most of the wit- 
nesses declared to have fired through the door. On this 
point, indeed, as on many others, there was confusion and 
contradiction in the evidence : some of the witnesses were 
sure it was O'Brien fired through the door ; others were 
inclined to assign the leading part to Condon ; but before 
the trial had gone far, it seemed to be understood that Allen 
was the man to whom the death of Brett was to be attributed, 
and that the business of the witnesses was to connect the 
other prisoners as closely as possible with his act. On one 
point nearly all of the witnesses were agreed — whoever 
there might be any doubt about, there could be none con- 
cerning Maguire. Seven witnesses sw T ore positively to 
having seen him assisting in breaking open the van, and 
some of them even repeated the words which they said he 
addressed to them while thus engaged. On the evening of 
Friday, November 1st, the trials terminated. It was past 
five o'clock when Judge Mellor concluded his charge. The 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 27 

court was densely crowded, and every eye was strained to 
mark the effect of the judge's words on the countenances 
of the prisoners 5 but they, poor fellows, quailed not as 
they heard the words which they knew would shortly be 
followed by a verdict consigning them to the scaffold. 
Throughout the long trial their courage had never flagged, 
their spirits had never failed them for an instant. Maguire, 
who had no real connection with the other four, and who 
knew that the charge against him was a baseless concoc- 
tion, did, indeed, betray traces of anxiety and bewilderment 
as the trial progressed; but Allen, O'Brien, Larkin, and 
Condon went through the frightful ordeal with a heroic 
display of courage to which even the most malignant of 
their enemies have paid tribute. 

The judge has done, and now the jury turned from the 
box " to consider the verdict." An hour and twenty 
minutes they remained absent ; then their returning tread 
was heard. The prisoners turned their eyes upwards; 
Maguire looked towards them, half hopefully, half appeal- 
ingly; from Allen's glance nothing but defiance could be 
read ; Larkin fixed his gaze on the foreman, who held the 
fatal record in his hand, with calm resolution j while a 
quiet smile played round 0' Brieu's lips, as he turned to 
hear the expected words. 

" Guilty !" The word is snatched up from the lips of 
the foreman of the jury, and whispered through the court. 
They were all " guilty." So said the jury ; and a murmur 
of applause came rolling back in response to the verdict. 
" Guilty !" A few there were in that court upon whom the 
fatal words fell with the bitterness of death, but the 
Englishmen who filled the crowded gallery and passages 
exulted at the sound : the vengeance which they longed 
for was at hand. 

The murmur died away ; the sobs that rose from the 
dark recesses where a few stricken-hearted women had 
been permitted to stand, were stifled; and then, amidst 
breathless silence, the voice of the Crown Clerk was heard 
demanding " if the prisoners had anything to say why 
sentence of death should not be pronounced on them." 

The first to respond was Allen. A slight flush reddened 



2S THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

his cheeks, and his eyes lit up with the fire of enthusiasm 
and determination, as, advancing to the front of the dock, 
he confronted the court, and spoke in resolute tones as 
follows : — 

"My Lords and Gentlemen: — It is not my intention to occupy 
much of your time in answering your question. Your question is 
one that can be easily asked, but requires an answer which I am 
ignorant of. Abler and more eloquent men could not answer it. 
Where were the men who have stood in the dock — Burke, Emmet, 
and others, who have stood in the dock in defence of their country ? 
When the question was put, what was their answer ? Their answer 
was null and void. Now, with your permission, I will review a 
portion of the evidence that has been brought against me." 

Here Mr. Justice Blackburne interrupted. " It was too 
late," he said, " to criticize the evidence, and the court had 
neither the right nor the power to alter or review it. If," 
he added, " you have any reason to give why, either upon 
technical or moral grounds, the sentence should not be 
passed upon you, we will hear it, but it is too late for you 
to review the evidence to show that it was wrong." 

"Cannot that be done in the morning, sir?" asked 
Allen, who felt in his heart how easily the evidence on 
which he had been convicted might be torn to shreds. 
But the Judge said not. " No one," he said, " could alter 
or review the evidence in any way after the verdict had 
been passed by the jury. We can only," he said in con- 
clusion, " take the verdict as right; and the only question 
for you is, why judgment should not follow." 

Thus restricted in the scope of his observations, the 
young felon proceeded to deliver the following patriotic 
and spirited address : — 

" No man in this court regrets the death of Sergeant Brett more 
than I do, and I positively say, in the presence of the Almighty 
and ever-living God. that I am innocent, aye, as innocent as any 
man in this court. I don't say this for the sake of mercy : I want 
no mercy — I'll have no mercy. I'll die, as many thousands have 
died, for the sake of their beloved land, and in defence of it. I will 
die proudly and triumphantly in defence of republican principles 
and the liberty of an oppressed and enslaved people.-^-Isiit possible 
Ave are asked why sentence should not be passed upon us, on 
the evidence of prostitutes off the streets of Manchester, fellows 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 29 

out of work, convicted felons — aye, an Irishman sentenced to be 
hung when an English dog would have got off? I say positively and 
defiantly, justice has not been done me since I was arrested. If 
justice had been done me, I would not have been handcuffed at the 
preliminary investigation in Bridge-street ; and in this court justice 
has not been done me in any shape or form. I was brought up 
here, and all the prisoners by my side were allowed to wear over- 
coats, and I was told to take mine off. What is the principle of 
that? There was something in thar principle, and I say positively, 
that justice has not been done me. As for the other prisoners, they 
can speak for themselves with regard to that matter. And now 
with regard to the way that I have been identified. I have to say that 
my clothes were kept for four hours by the policemen in F airfield- 
station, and shown to parties to identify me as being one of the 
perpetrators of this outrage on Hyde-road. Also in Albert-station, 
there was a handkerchief kept on ray head the whole night, so that 
I could be identified the next morning in the corridor by the wit- 
nesses. I was ordered to leave on the handkerchief for the purpose 
that the witnesses could more plainly see I was one of the parties 
who committed the outrage. As for myself, I feel the righteousness 
of my every act with regard to what I have done in defence of my 
country. I fear not. I am fearless— fearless of the punishment 
that can be inliicted on me ; and with that, my lords, I have done. 
(After a moment's pause) — I beg to be excused. One remark more. 
I return Mr. Seymour and Mi\ Jones my sincere and heartfelt 
thanks for their able eloquence and advocacy on my part in this 
affray. I wish also to return to Mr. Roberts the very same. My 
name, sir, might be wished to be known. It is not William O'Meara 
Allen. My name is William Philip Allen. I was born and reared 
in Bandon, in the county of Cork, and from that place I take my 
name ; and I am proud of my country, and proud of my parentage. 
My lords, I have done.'' 

A sigh of mingled applause and admiration rose faintly 
on the air, as the grallant vounsr Irishman, inclining" liis 
head slightly to the court, retired to make way at the front 
of the bar for one of his companions in misfortune. Bat his 
chivalrous bearing and noble words woke no response 
within the prejudice-hardened hearts of the majority of 
his auditors; they felt that the fearless words of the 
fearless youth would overbear all that his accusers had 
uttered, and the world would read in them the condemna- 
tion of the government and of the people whose power 
he so bravely defied. 

Michael Larkin spoke next. He looked a shade paler 
than on the first day of the trial, but no want of resolution 
was expressed in his firm set face. He gazed with an 



30 THE DOCK AXD THE SCAFFOLD. 

unquailing glance round the faces eagerly bent forward 
to catch his words ; and then spoke in distinct tones as 
follows : — 

"I have only got a word or two to say concerning Sergeant Brett. 
As my friend here said, no one conld regret the man's death as much 
as I do. With regard to the charge of pistols and revolvers, and 
my using them, I call my God as a witness that I neither used 
pistols, revolvers, nor any instrument on that day that would deprive 
a child of life, let alone a man. Nor did I go there on purpose 
to take life away. Certainly, my lords, I do not want to deny that 
I did go to give aid and assistance to those two nohle heroes that 
were confined in that van — Kelly and Deasey. I did go to do 
as much as lay in my power to extricate them out of their bondage, 
but I did not go to take lite, nor, my lord, did any one else. It is a 
misfortune there was life taken ; but if it was taken, it was not 
done intentionally, and the man who has taken life, we have not got 
him. I was at the scene of action, when there were over, I dare 
say, one hundred and fifty people standing by there when I was. I 
am very sorry I have to say, my lord, but I thought I had some 
respectable people to come up as witnesses against me; but I am 
sorry to say as my friend said. I will make no more remarks con- 
cerning that. All I have to say, my lords and gentlemen, is, that so 
far as my trial went, and the way it was conducted, I believe I have 
got a fair trial. So far as my noble council went, they did their 
utmost in the protection of my lite; likewise, my worthy solicitor, 
Mr. Roberts, has done his best ; but I believe as the old saying is a 
true one, what is decreed a man in the page of life, he has to fulfil, either 
on the gallows, drowning, a fair death in bed, or on the battlefield. 
So I look to the mercy of God. May God forgive all who have 
sworn my life away. As I am a dying man, I forgive them from 
the bottom of my heart. God forgive them." 

As Larkin ceased speaking, O'Brien, who stood to the 
ri^ht of him, moved slightly in advance, and intimated 
by a slight inclination to the court his intention of ad- 
dressing them. His stalwart form seemed to dilate with 
proud defiance and scorn as he faced the ermine-clad 
dio-nitaries who were about to consign him to the gibbet. 
He spoke with emphasis, and in tones which seemed to 
borrow a something of the fire and spirit of his words. 
He said : — 

" I shall commence by saying that every witness who has sworn 
anything against me has sworn falsely. I have not had a stone in 
my possession since I was a boy. I had no pistol in my possession 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 31 

on the day when it is alleged this outrage was committed. You call 
it an outrage ; I don't. I say further, my name is Michael O'Brien. 
I was born in the county of Cork, and have the honor to be a 
fellow-parishioner of Peter O'Neal Crowley, who was fighting against 
the British troops at Mitchelstown last March, and who fell fighting 1 
against British tyranny in Ireland. I am a citizen of the United 
States of America, and if Charles Francis Adams had done his duty 
towards me, as he ought to do in this country, I would not be in 
this dock answering your questions now. Mr. Adams did not come, 
though I wrote to him. He did not come to see if I could not find 
evidence to disprove the charge, which I positively could, if he had 
taken the trouble of sending or coming to see what I could do. I 
hope the American people will notice that part of the business. 
[The prisouer here commenced reading from a paper he held in his 
hand.] The right of man is freedom. The great God has en- 
dowed him with affections that he may use, not smother them, 
and a world that may be enjoyed. Once a man is satisfied he is 
doing right, and attempts to do anything with that conviction, he 
must be willing to face all the consequences. Ireland, with its 
beautiful scenery, its delightfnl climate, its rich and productive 
lands, is capable of supporting more than treble its population in 
ease and comfort. Yet no man, except a paid otficial of the British 
government, can say there is a shadow of liberty, that there is a 
spark of glad life amongst its plundered and persecuted inhabitants. 
It is to be hoped that its imbecile and tyi-annical rulers will be for- 
ever driven from her soil, amidst the execration of the world. How 
beautifully the aristocrats of England moralize on the despotism 
of the rulers of Italy and Dahomey — in the case of Naples with 
what indignation did they speak of the ruin of families by the deten- 
tion of its head or some loved member in a prison ! Who has 
not heard their condemnations of the tyranny that would compel 
honorable and good men to spend their useful lives in hopeless 
banishment 1 ?" 

The taunt went home to the hearts of his accusers, and, 
writhing under the lash thus boldly applied, Judge Black- 
burne hastened to intervene. Unable to stay, on legal 
grounds, the torrent of scathing invective by which O'Brien 
was driving the blood from the cheeks of his British 
listeners, the judge resorted to a device which Mr. Justice 
Keogh had practised very adroitly, and with much success, 
at various of the State trials in Ireland. He appealed to 
the prisoner, i; entirely for his own sake," to cease his re- 
marks. " The only possible effect of your observations," 
he said, " must be to tell against you with those who have 
to consider the sentence. I advise you to say nothing 
more of that sort. I do so entirely for your own sake." 



32 THE DOCK AXD THE SCAFFOLD. 

But O'Brien was not the man to be cowed into submission 
by this artful representation. Possibly he discerned the 
motive of the interruption, and estimated at its true value 
the disinterestedness of Judge Blackburn e's li . advice." 
Mr. Ernest Jones in vain used his influence to accomplish 
the Judge's object. O'Brien spurned the treacherous bait, 
and resolutely proceeded : — 

" They cannot find words to express their horror of the cruelties 
of the King of Dahomey because he sacrificed *2,000 human beings 
yearly, but why don't those persons who pretend such virtuous in- 
dignation at the misgovernment of other countries look at home, and 
see if greater crimes than those they charge against other govern- 
ments are not committed by themselves or by their sanction ? Let 
them look at London, and see the thousands that want bread there. 
while those aristocrats are rioting in luxuries and crimes. Look to 
Ireland ; see the hundreds of thousands of its people in misery and 
want. See the virtuous, beautiful, and industrious women, who 
only a few years ago — aye, and yet — are obliged to look at their 
children dying for want of food. Look at what is called the 
majesty of the law on one side, and the long, deep misery of a noble 
people on the other. Which are the young men of Ireland to re- 
spect — the law that murdeis or banishes their people, or the means 
to resist relentless tyranny and ending their miseries forever under 
a home government ? I need not auswer that question hei'e. I 
trust the Irish people will answer it to their satisfaction soon. I 
am not astonished at my conviction. The government of this 
country have the power of convicting any person. They appoint 
the judge; they choose the juiy; and by means of what they call 
patronage (which is the means of corruption) they have the power 
of making the laws to suit their purposes. I am confident that my 
blood will rise a hundred-fold against the tyrants who think proper 
to commit such an outrage. In the first place, I say I was 
identified improperly, by having chains on my hands and feet at 
the time of identification; and thus the witnesses who have sworn 
to my throwing stones and firing a pistol have sworn to what is 
false, for I was, as those ladies said, at the gaol gates. I thank my 
council for their able defence, and also Mr. Koberts, for his attention 
to my case." 

Edward Maguire spoke next. He might well have 
felt bewildered at the situation in which he found him- 
self, but he s.poke earnestly and collectedly, nevertheless. 
He had had an experience of British law, which, if not 
without precedent, was still extraordinary enough to create 
amazement. He knew that he had never been a Fenian ,' 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 33 

lie knew that lie never saw Colonel Kelly — never heard 
of him until arrested for assisting in his liberation ; he 
knew that, while the van was being- attacked at Bellevue, 
he was sitting- in his own home, miles away ; and he knew 
that he had never in his life placed his foot in the scene 
of the rescue ; yet there he found himself convicted, by 
regular process of law, of the murder of Constable Brett. 
He had seen witness after witness enter the box, and 
deliberately swear they saw him take a prominent part in 
the rescue. He saw policemen and civilians coolly identify 
him as a ringleader in the affair j he had heard the crown 
lawyers weave around him the subtle meshes of their 
logic; and now he found himself pronounced guilty by 
the jury, in the teeth of the overwhelming array of unim- 
peachable evidence brought forward in his defence. 
What " the safeguards of the Constitution " mean — what 
"the bulwark of English freedom" and "the Palladium 
of British freedom" are worth, when Englishmen fill the 
jury-box and an Irishman stands in the dock, Maguire had 
had a fair opportunity of judging. Had he been reflec- 
tively inclined, he might, too, have found himself com- 
pelled to adopt a rather low estimate of the credibility of 
English witnesses, when they get an opportunity of swear- 
ing away an Irishman's life. An impetuous man might 
have been goaded by the circumstances into cursing the 
atrocious system under which "justice" had been admin- 
istered to him, and calling down the vengeance of Heaven 
on the whole nation from which the perjured wretches who 
swore away his life had been drawn. But Maguire acted 
more discreetly ; he began, indeed, by declaring that all 
the witnesses who swore against him were perjurers — by 
vehemently protesting that the case, as regarded him, 
was one of mistaken identity ; but he shortly took surer 
ground, by referring to his services in the navy, and talk- 
ing of his unfailing loyalty to " his Queen and his 
country." He went through the record of his services as 
a marine ; appealed to the character he had obtained from 
his commanding officers, in confirmation of his words ; and 
concluded by solemnly protesting his perfect innocence of 
the charge on which he had been convicted. 



34 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

While Maguire's impressive words were still ringing in 
the ears of his conscience-stricken accusers, Edward 
O'Meagher Condon commenced to speak. He was evi- 
dently more of an orator than either of those who had 
preceded him, and he spoke with remarkable fluency, 
grace, and vigor. The subjoined is a correct report of 
his spirited and able address : — 

" My Lords: — This has come upon me somewhat by surprise. It 
appeared to me rather strange that upon any amount of evidence, 
which of course was false, a man could have heen convicted of wil- 
fully murdering others he never saw or heard of before he was put 
in prison. I do not care to detain your lordships, but I cannot 
help remarking that Mr. Shaw, who has come now to gloat up n 
his victims, after having sworn away their lives — that man has 
sworn what is altogether false ; and there are contradictions in the 
depositions which have not been brought before your lordships' 
notice. I suppose, the depositions being imperfect, there was no 
necessity for it. As to Mr. Batty, he swore at his first examination 
before the magistrates that a large stone fell on me, a stone which 
Mr. Roberts said at the time would have killed an elephant. But 
not the slightest mark was found on my head ; and if I was to go 
round the country, and him with me, as exhibiting the stone having 
fallen on me, and him as the man who would swear to it, I do not 
know which would be looked for with the most earnestness. How- 
ever, it has been accepted by the jury. Now he says he only thinks 
so. There is another matter to consider. I have been sworn to, I 
believe, by some of the witnesses who have also sworn to others, 
though some of them can prove they were in another city altogether — 
in Liverpool. Others have an overwhelming alibi, and I should by 
right have been tried with them; but I suppose your lordships 
cannot help that. We have, for instance, Thomas the policeman, 
who swore to another prisoner. He identified him on a certain 
day, and the prisoner was not arrested for two days afterwards. As 
for Thomas, I do not presume that any jury could have believed 
him. He had heard of the blood money, and of course was pre- 
pared to bid pretty high for it. My alibi has not been strong, and 
unfortunately I was not strong in pocket, and was not able to pro- 
duce more testimony to prove where I was at exactly that time. 
With regard to the unfortunate man who has lost his lite, I sympa- 
thize with him and his family as deeply as your lordships or the 
jury, or any one in the court. I deeply regret the unfortunate 
occurrence, but I am as perfectly innocent of his blood as any man. 
I never had the slightest intention of taking life. I have done 
nothing at all in connection with that man, and I do not desire to 
he accused of a murder which I have not committed. With regard 
to another matter, my learned counsel has, no doubt for the best, 
expressed some opinions on these matters and the misgovernment 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 35 

to which my country has heen subjected. I am firmly convinced 
there is prejudice in the minds of the people, and it has been 
increased and excited by the newspapers, or by some of them, and 
to a certain extent has influenced the minds of the jury to convict 
the men standing in this dock, on a charge of which — a learned 
gentleman remarked a few nights since — they would be acquitted 
if they had been charged with murdering an old woman for the sake 
of the money in her pocket, but a political offence of this kind they 
could not. Now, sir, with regard to the opinions I hold on national 
matters — with regard to those men who have been released from 
that van, in which, unfortunately, life was lost, I am of opinion that 
certainly to some extent there was an excuse. Perhaps it was un- 
thought ; but if those men had been in other countries, occupying 
other positions — if Jefferson Davis had been released in a northern 
city, there would have been a cry of applause throughout all 
England. If Garibaldi, who, I saw before I was shut out from the 
world, had been arrested, was released, or something of that kind 
had taken place, they would have applauded the bravery of the act. 
If the captives of King Theodore had been released, that, too, would 
have been applauded. But, as it happened to be in England, 
of course it is an awful thing, while yet in Ireland murders are 
perpetrated on unoffending men, as in the case of the riots in 
Waterford, where an unoffending man was murdered, and no one 
was punished for it. I do not desire to detain your lordships. I 
can oniy say that I leave this world without a stain on my con- 
science that I have been wilfully guilty of anything in connection 
with the death of Sergeant Brett. I am totally guiltless. I leave 
this world without malice to any one. I do not accuse the jury, 
but I believe they were prejudiced. I don't accuse them of wil- 
fully wishing to convict, but prejudice has induced them to convict 
when they otherwise would not have done. With reference to the 
witnesses, every one of them has sworn falsely. I never threw a 
stone or fired a pistol ; I was never at the place as they have said ; 
it is all totally false. But as I have to go before my God, I forgive 
them. They will be able to meet me, some day, before that God 
who is to judge us all, and then they and the people in this court, 
and every one, will know who tells the truth. Had I committed 
anything against the Crown of England, I would have scorned my- 
self had I attempted to deny it; but with regard to those men, they 
have sworn what is altogether false. Had I been an Englishman, 
and arrested near the scene of that disturbance, I would have been 
brought as a witness to identify them; but, being an Irishman, it 
was supposed my sympathy was with them, and on suspicion of 
that sympathy I was arrested, and in consequence of the arrest, and 
the rewards which were offered, I was identified. It could not 
be otherwise. As 1 said before, my opinions on national matters 
do not at all relate to the case before your lordships. We have 
been found guilty, and, as a matter of course, we accept our 
death as gracefully as possible. We are not afraid to die — at least 
I am not." 



36 THE DOCK AXD THE SCAFFOLD. 

"Nor I," "Nor I," "Nor I," swelled up from the lips 
of his companions; and then, with a proud smile, Condon 
continued : — 



"I have no sin or stain upon me; and I leave this world at peace 
with all. With regard to the other prisoners who are to be tried 
afterwards, I hope our blood at least will satisfy the craving for it. 
I hope our blood will be enough, and that those men who. I honestly 
believe, are guiltless of the blood of that man — that the other batches 
will get a fair, free, and a more impartial trial. We view matters 
in a different light from what the jury do. We have been impris- 
oned, and have not had the advantage of understanding exactly to 
what this excitement has led. I can only hope and pray that this 
prejudice will disappear — that my poor country will right herself 
some day, and that her people, so far from being looked upon with 
scorn and aversion, will receive what they are entitled to, the 
respect not only of the civilized world, but of Englishmen. I. too, 
am an American Citizen, and on English territory I have committed 
no crime which makes me amenable to the Crown of England. I 
have done nothing; and, as a matter of course, I did expect protec- 
tion — as this gentleman (pointing to Allen) has said, the protection 
of the ambassador of my government. I am a citizen of the State 
of Ohio; but I am sorry to say my name is not Shore. My name 
is Edward O'Meagher Condon. I belong to Ohio, and there are 
loving hearts there that will be sorry for this. I have nothing but 
my best wishes to send them, and my best feelings, and assure them 
I can die as a Christian and an Irishman ; and that I am not 
ashamed or afraid of anything I have done, or the consequences, 
before God or man. They would be ashamed of me if I was in the 
slightest degree a coward, or concealed my opinions. The unfor- 
tunate divisions of our countrymen in America have, to a certain 
extent, neutralized the efforts that we have made either in one 
direction or another for the liberation of our country. All these 
things have been thwarted, and, as a matter of course, we must only 
submit to our fate. I only trust again, that those who are to he 
tried after us will have a fair trial, and that our blood will satisfy 
the cravings which I understand exist. You will soon send us 
before God, and I am perfectly prepared to go. I have nothing 
to regret, or to retract, or to take back. I can only say, God SAVE 
Ireland." 

Again were the voices of his companions raised in 
unison. " God save Ireland !" they cried defiantly, in 
chorus. "God save Ireland!" The cry rung- through 
the packed justice-hall, and fell on the ears of its blood- 
thirsty occupants like the voice of an accusing angel. 
" God save Ireland !" they said j and then the brave- 



THE DOCK A^D THE SCAFFOLD. 37 

hearted fellows gazed fiercely around the hostile gathering, 
as if daring them to interfere with the prayer. " God save 
Ireland !" — from the few broken-hearted relatives who 
listened to the patriots' prayer the responsive " Amen" 
was breathed back, and the dauntless young Irishman 
continued : 

" I wish to add a word or two. There is nothing in the close of 
my political career which I regret. I don't know of one act which 
could bring the blush of shame to my face, or make me afraid to 
meet my God or lellow-man. I would be most happy, and nothing 
would give me greater pleasure than to die on the held for my 
country in defence of her liberty. As it is, I cannot die on the 
field, but I can die on the scaffold, I hope, as a soldier, a man, and 
a Christian." 

And now the last was spoken. As true Irishmen and 
as true patriots they had borne themselves. No trace of 
flinching did thev ffive for their enemies to edoat over — no 
sign of weakness which could take from the effect of their 
deathless words. With bold front and steady mien they 
stood forward to listen to the fatal decree their judges 
were ready to pronounce. The judges produced the black 
caps, with which they had come provided, and then 
Justice Mellor proceeded to pass sentence. No person, 
he said, who had witnessed the proceedings could doubt 
the propriety of the verdict, which he insisted was the 
result of " a full, patient, and impartial investigation." 
He made no distinction. " I am perfectly convinced," he 
said, " that all of you had resolved, at any risk, and by 
any amount of dangerous violence and outrage, to accom- 
plish your object ; and that, in fact, Charles Brett was 
murdered because it was essential to the completion of 
your common design that he should be." The stereotyped 
words of exhortation to repentance followed, and then the 
judge concluded : — ■ 

'•' The sentence is that you, and each of you, be taken hence to the 
place whence you came, and thence to a place of execution, and that 
you he there hanged by the neck until you shall be dead, and that 
your bodies be afterwards buried within the precincts of the prison 
wherein you were last confined after your respective convictions; 
and may God, in His infinite mercy, have mercy upon you." 



38 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

With quiet composure the doomed men heard the 
words. They warmly shook hands with their counsel, 
thanked them for their exertions, and then, looking 
towards the spot where their weeping friends were seated, 
they turned to leave the dock. " God be with you, 
Irishmen and Irishwomen P they cried, and, as they 
disappeared from the court, their final adieu was heard in 
the same prayer that had swelled upwards to Heaven 
from them before — 

"God Save Ireland!" 



Scarcely had the Manchester court-house ceased to echo 
those voices from the dock, when the glaring falseness of 
the verdict became the theme of comment amongst even 
the most thoroughgoing Englishmen who had been 
present throughout the trial. 

Without more ado down sate some thirty or forty re- 
porters, who, as representatives of the English metropolitan 
and provincial press, had attended the Commission, and 
addressed a memorial to the Home Secretary, stating that 
they had been long accustomed to attend at trials on capital 
charges ; that they had extensive experience of such cases, 
from personal observation of prisoners in the dock and 
witnesses on the table; and that they were solemnly con- 
vinced, the swearing of the witnesses and the verdict of 
the jury to the contrary notwithstanding, that the man 
Maguire had neither hand, act, nor part in the crime for 
which he had been sentenced to death. The following is 
the petition referred to : — 

" We, the undersigned, members of the metropolitan and provincial 
press, having had long experience in courts of justice, and full op- 
portunity of observing the demeanor of prisoners and witnesses in 
cases of criminal procedure, beg humbly to submit that, having 
heard the evidence adduced before the Special Commission, on the 
capital charge preferred against Thomas Maguire, private in the 
Royal Marines, we conscientiously believe that the said Thomas 
Maguire is innocent of the crime of which he has been convicted, 
and that his conviction has resulted from mistaken identity. We, 
therefore, pray that you will be pleased to advise her Majesty to 
grant her most gracious pardon to the said Thomas Maguire." 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 39 

This was a startling event j it was a proceeding utterly 
without precedent. Nothing but the most extraordinary 
circumstances could have called it forth. The blunder of 
the jury must have been open, glaring, painfully notorious, 
indeed, when such an astonishing course was adopted by 
the whole staff of the English press. 

It was most embarrassing. For what had those news- 
paper reporters seen or heard that the jurors had not seen 
and heard ? — and yet the jurors said Maguire was guilty. 
What had those reporters seen or heard that the judges had 
not seen and heard ? — and yet the judges said they " fully 
concurred in the verdict of the jury." The reporters were 
not sworn on the Evangelists of God to give a true deliv- 
erance — but the jurors were. The reporters were not 
sworn to administer justice — were not dressed in ermine — 
were not bound to be men of legal ability, judicial 
calmness, wisdom, and impartiality — but the judges were. 
Yet the unsworn reporters told the government Maguire 
was an innocent man; while judge and jury told the 
government — swore to it — that he was a guilty murderer ! 

What was the government to do ? Was it to act on the 
verdict of newspaper reporters who had happened to be 
present at this trial, and not on the verdict of the jury 
who had been solemnly sworn in the case ? Behind tha 
reporters' verdict lay the huge sustaining power of al- 
most universal conviction, mysteriously felt and owned, 
though as yet nowhere expressed. Every one who had 
calmly and dispassionately weighed the evidence arrived 
at conclusions identical with those of the press jury, and 
utterly opposed to those of the sworn jury. The ministers 
themselves — it was a terribly embarrassing truth to own — - 
felt that the reporters were as surely right as the jurors 
were surely wrong. But what were they to do ? What a 
frightful imputation would the public admission of that fact 
cast upon the twelve sworn jurors — upon the judges! 
What a damning imputation on their judgment or their 
impartiality! Was it to be admitted that newspaper 
reporters could be right in a case so awful, where twelve 
sworn jurors and two judges were wrong? 

And then, look at the consequences. The five men were 



40 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

convicted in the one verdict. There were not five separate 
verdicts, but one indivisible verdict. If the (jurors') verdict 
were publicly vitiated — if the government confessed or ad- 
mitted that verdict to be false — it was not one man, but 
five men, who were affected by it. To be sure, the re- 
porters' jury, in their verdict, did not include Allen, O'Brien, 
Larkin and Shore ; but was it to be conveyed by implication 
that omission from the reporters' verdict of acquittal was 
more fatal to a man than inclusion in the verdict of guilty by 
a sworn jury? Might not twenty, or thirty, or forty men, 
quite as intelligent as the reporters, be soon forthcoming to 
testify as forcibly of Allen, O'Brien, Lai kin and Shore, as the 
press-men had testified of Maguire ? Was it only reporters 
whose judgment could set aside the verdict of sworn jurors, 
endorsed by ermined judges ? But, in any event, the five 
men were convicted by the one verdict. To cut that, 
loosed all — not necessarily in law, perhaps, but inevitably 
as regarded public conscience and universal judgment ; for 
there was not in all the records of English jurisprudence 
a precedent for executing men on a verdict acknowledged 
to have been one of blunder or perjury. Clearly, if the 
jurors were to be told by the government that, in a case 
where life and death hung on the issue, they had been so 
blinded by excitement, passion, or prejudice, that they 
declared to be a guilty murderer a man whose innocence 
was patent even to unofficial lookers-on in court, the moral 
value of such a verdict was gone — ruined forever ; and to 
hang any one on such a verdict — on that identical verdict, 
thus blasted and abandoned — would, it was pointed out, be 
murder, for all its technical legality ; neither more nor 
less, morally, than cool, deliberate, cold-blooded murder. 

Everybody saw this ; but every one in England saw 
also the awkward difficulty of the case. For, to let Allen, 
O'Brien, Larkin, and Shore go free of death, in the face of 
their admitted complicity in the rescue, would balk the 
national demand for vengeance. It was necessary that 
some one should be executed. Here were men, though 
they almost certainly had no hand in causing, even 
accidentally, the death of Brett, dared boast of their partici- 
pation in the affray in the course of which that lamentable 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 41 

event unhappily occurred — that rescue which had so 
painfully wounded and humiliated English national pride. 
If these men were saved from execution, owing to any 
foolish scruples about hanging a possibly — nay, probably 
— innocent man along with them, a shout of rage would 
ascend from that virtuous nation amongst whom Charlotte 
Winsor, the professional infant-murderess, walks a free 
woman, notwithstanding a jury's verdict of wilful murder 
and a judge's sentence of death. 

So, for a time it seemed that, notwithstanding the 
verdict of the reporters, the government would act upon 
the verdict of the jury, and assume it to be correct. No 
doubt Maguire might be innocent, but it was his mis- 
fortune to be included in an indivisible verdict with other 
men, who, though perhaps as guiltless as he of wilful 
murder, were surely guilty of riot and rescue, aggravated 
by the utterance of the most bitter reflections on the 
British Constitution, which all men know to be the "envy 
of surrounding nations." If they were not guilty of the 
crime laid against them on the trial, they were guilty of 
something else — they had outraged British pride. It was 
necessary they should die; and as jVtaguire's was not 
separate from theirs, he must die too, rather than that 
they should escape 

But after a while the idea gained ground in England 
that this would be rather too monstrous a proceeding. 
Maguire' s utter innocence of any participation whatsoever 
in the rescue was too notorious. The character of tho 
witnesses on whose evidence he was convicted became 
known : some were thieves, pickpockets, or gaol-birds 
of some other denomination ; others were persons palpably 
confused by panic, excitement, passion, or prejudice. 
True, these same witnesses were those who likewise swore 
against Allen, Larkin, O'Brien, and Shore. Indeed, a 
greater number swore against Maguire than against some 
of the others. Nevertheless, the overwhelming notoriety 
of the jury's blunder or perjury, in his case at least, became 
daily more and more an obstacle to his execution ; and 
eventually, on the 21st of November, it was announced 
that his conviction had been cancelled, by the only means 



42 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

existing under the perfect laws of Great Britain — namely, 
a "free pardon" for a crime never committed. The 
prison doors were opened for Maguire ; the sworn jurors 
were plainly told in effect that their blunder or perjury had 
well-nigh done the murder of at least one innocent man. 
The judges were in like manner told that shorthand 
writers had been more clear-headed or dispassionate to 
weigh evidence and judge guilt than they. The indi- 
visible verdict had been openly proclaimed worthless. 

The news was received with a sense of relief in Ireland, 
where the wholesale recklessness of the swearing, and the 
transparent falseness of the verdict, had, from the first, 
created intense indignation and resentment. Every one 
knew and saw that, whatever might have been the par- 
ticipation of those men in the rescue of Col. Kelly, they 
had not had a fair trial ; nay, that their so-called trial was 
an outrage on all law and justice; that witnesses, jurors, 
and judges were in the full fierce heat of excitement, 
panic, and passion, — much more ready to swear evidence, 
to find verdicts, and to pass sentences against innocent 
men than they themselves were, perhaps, conscious of, 
while laboring under such influences. The public and 
official recognition of the falseness and injustice of the 
Manchester verdict was therefore hailed with intense 
satisfaction. 

Maguire was at once liberated j Allen, Larkin, Shore, 
and O'Brien were still detained in custody. It was uni- 
versally concluded that, notwithstanding the abandonment 
by the Crown of the verdict on which they had been 
sentenced, they, because of their admitted complicity in 
the rescue, would be held to imprisonment — probably 
penal servitude — for a term of years. Considerable aston- 
ishment was excited, some days subsequently to Maguire's 
pardon, by a statement that, in the case of the other pris- 
oners included in the verdict, " the law should take its 
course." No one credited this declaration for an instant, 
and most persons felt that the Crown officials were in- 
dulging in an indecent piece of mockery. Amidst this 
universal incredulity, however — this disdainful and in- 
dignant disbelief — the prisoners' solicitor, Mr. Roberts, 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 43 

vigilant and untiring to the last, took the necessary steps 
to pray arrest of execution pending decision of the serious 
law points raised on the trial. Some of the most eminent 
counsel in England certified solemnly that these points 
were of the gravest nature, and would, in their opinion, be 
fully established on argument before the judges; in which 
event the conviction would be legally quashed, indepen- 
dently of the substantial abandonment of it as false and 
untenable by the Crown in Maguire's case. 

The first idea of the merest possibility — the faintest 
chance — of the remaining four men being executed on the 
vitiated verdict, arose when it became known that the 
judges, or some of them, had informally declared to the 
government, (without waiting to hear any argument on the 
subject) that the points raised by the prisoners' counsel 
were not tenable, or were not of force. Mr. Roberts was 
officially informed that the sentence would infallibly be 
carried out. By this time barely a few days remained of the 
interval previous to the date fixed for the execution, and the 
strangest sensations swayed the public mind in Ireland. 
Even still, no one would seriously credit that men would 
be put to death on a verdict notoriously false. Some 
persons who proposed memorials to the Queen were met 
on all hands with the answer that it was all u acting " on 
the part of the government ; that, even though it should be 
at the foot of the scaffold, the men would be reprieved ; 
that the government would not — dare not — take away 
human life on a verdict already vitiated and abandoned as 
a perjury or blunder. 

The day of doom approached ; and now, as it came 
nearer and nearer, a painful and sickening alternation of 
incredulity and horror surged through every Irish heart. 
Meanwhile, the press of England, on both sides of the 
Channel, kept up a ceaseless cry for blood. The govern- 
ment were told that to let these men off, innocent or 
guilty, would be " weakness.' 7 They were called upon to 
be " firm " — that is, to hang first, and reflect afterwards. 
As the 23d of November drew near, the opinion began to 
gain ground, even in England, that things had been too 
hastily done — that the whole trial bore all the traces of 



44 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

panic — and that, if a few weeks were given for alarm and 
passion to calm down, not a voice would approve the 
Manchester verdict. Perceiving this — perceiving that 
time or opportunity for reflection, or for the subsidence of 
panic, would almost certainly snatch its prey from ven- 
geance — a deafening yell arose from the raving creatures 
of blood-hunger, demanding that not a day, not an hour, 
not a second, should be granted to the condemned. 

Still the Irish people would not credit that, far towards 
the close of the nineteenth century, an act so dreadful 
durst be done. 

During all this time the condemned lay in Salford gaol, 
tortured by the suspense inevitably created by Maguire's 
reprieve. Although every effort was made by their friends 
to keep them from grasping at or indulging in hope, the 
all-significant fact of that release seemed to imperatively 
forbid the idea of their being executed on a verdict whose 
falseness was thus confessed. The moment, however, that 
the singular conduct of the judges in London defeased the 
application of Mr. Roberts, they, one and all, resigned 
themselves to the worst; and while their fellow-country- 
men at home were still utterly and scornfully incredulous 
on the subject, devoted their remaining hours exclusively 
to spiritual preparation for death upon the scaffold. 

It was now that each character " rushed to its index." 
It was now — within the very shadow of death — in the 
most awful crisis that can test the soul — that these men 
rose into the grandeur and sublimity of true heroism. 
They looked death in the face with serene and cheerful 
composure. So far from requiring consolation, it was they 
who strove most earnestly to console the grieving friends 
they were leaving behind ; imploring them to exhibit 
resignation to the will of God, and assuring them that, igno- 
minious as was death upon the gallows, and terrible as 
was the idea of suffering such a fate unjustly, it was "not 
hard to die " with a clear and tranquil conscience, as they 
were dying, for the cause of native land. 

It may be questioned whether the martyrology of any 
nation in history can exhibit anything more noble, more 
edifying, more elevating and inspiring, than the last 



THE DOCK AXD THE SCAFFOLD. 45 

hours of these doomed Irishmen. Their every thought, 
their every utterance, was fall of tenderness and holiness 
— full of firmness and cheerful acceptance of God's will. 
The farewell letters addressed by them to their relatives 
and friends — from which we take a few — amply illustrate 
the truth of the foregoing observations. Here is O'Brien's 
last letter to his brother : — 

New Bailey Prison, Salford, ? 
Nov. 14th, 1867. $ 

My Dear Brother : — I have been intending to write to you for 
gome time, but having seen a letter from a Mr. Moore, addressed to 
the governor of this prison, and knowing from that that you must 
be in a disagreeable state of suspense, I may therefore let you know 
how I am at once. With reference to the trial and all connected 
with it, it was unfair from beginning to end; and if I should die in 
consequence, it will injure my murderers more than it will injure me. 
Why should I fear to die, innocent as I am of the charge which a 
prejudiced jury, assisted by perjured witnesses, found me guilty of? 
I will do judge and jury the justice of saying they believed me guilty 
of being — a citizen of the United States, a friend to liberty, a hater 
of relentless cruelty, aud therefore no friend to the British govern- 
ment, as it exists in our beautiful island. I must say, though much 
I would like to live, that I cannot regret dying in the cause of 
liberty and Ireland. It has been made dear to me by the sufferings 
of its people, by the martyrdom and exile of its best and noblest 
sons. The priest, the scholar, the soldier, the saint, have suffered 
and died proudly, nobly; and why should I shrink from death in a 
cause made holy and glorious b^ the numbers of its martyrs and the 
heroism of its supporters, as well as by its justice. You don't, and 
never shall, forget that Peter O'Neill Crowley died only a short 
time since in this cause. 

"Far dearer the grave or the prison, 

Ulum'd by one patriot name, 
Than the trophies. of all who have risen, 

On liberty's ruins, to fame/' 

I should feel ashamed of my manhood if I thought myself capable of 
doing anything mean to save my life, to get out of here, or for any 
other selfish purpose. Let no man think a cause is lost because some 
suffer for it. It is only a proof that those who suffer are in. earnest, 
and should be an incentive to others to be equally so — to do their 
duty with firmness, justice, and disinterestedness. I feel confident 
of the ultimate success of the Irish cause, as I do of my own existence. 
God, in His great mercy and goodness, will strengthen the arm of the 
patriot, and give him wisdom to free his country. Let us hope that 



46 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

He, in His wisdom, is only trying our patience. The greater its suf- 
ferings, the more glorious will He make the future of our unfortunate 
country and its people. 

The shriek of the famine-stricken mother and the helpless infant, 
as well as the centuries of misery, calls to heaven for vegeance. God 
is slow, but just! The blood of Tone, Fitzgerald, Emmet, and 
others, has been shed— how much good has it done the tyrant and 
the robber? None. Smith O'Brien, M'Manus, and Mitchel suffered 
for Ireland, yet not their sufferings, nor those of O'Donovan (Rossa) 
and his companions, deterred Burke, M'Afferty, and their friends 
from doing their duty. Neither shall the sufferings of my com- 
panions, nor mine, hinder my countrymen from taking their part in 
the inevitable struggle, but rather nerve their arms to strike. I 
would write on this subject at greater length, but I hope that I have 
written enough to show you that, if a man dies for liberty, his 
memory lives in the breasts of the good and virtuous. You will also 
see that there is no necessity for my father, mother, sisters or re- 
lations fretting about me. When I leave this world it will be (with 
God's help) to go to a better, to join the angels and saints of God, 
and sing His praises for all eternity. I leave a world of suffering 
for one of eternal joy and happiness. I have been to holy com- 
munion, and, please God, intend going shortly again. I am sorry 
we cannot hear Mass — the good priest is not allowed to say it in 
this prison. 

Give my love to my father and mother, to Mary, Ellen, John 
Philips, Tim, Catharine, uncles, aunts, and cousins. 

Farewell. 

From your affectionate brother, 

Michael O'Brien (alias William Gould). 

The following is one of Allen's letters to his relatives, 
written the day before his execution : — 

Salford, New Bailey Prison, Nov. 23d, 1867. 

To yoj, my Loving and Sincere Dear Uncle and Aunt 
Hogan. 

I suppose this is my last letter to you at this side of the grave. 
Oh ! dear uncle and aunt, if you reflect on it, it is nothing. I am 
dying an honorable death : I am dying for Ireland — dying for the 
land that gave me birth — dying for the Island of Saints — and dying 
for liberty. Every generation- of our countrymen has suffered ; and 
where is the Irish heart could stand by unmoved ? I should like 
to know what trouble, what passion, what mischief could separate 
the true Irish heart from its own native isle. Dear uncle and aunt, 
it is sad to be parting from you all, at my early age; but we must all 
die some day or another. A few hours more and I will breathe my 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 47 

last, and on English soil. Oh, that I could be buried in Ireland ! 
What a happiness it would be to all my friends and to myself — 
where my countrymen could kneel on my grave ! 1 cannot express 
what joy it afforded me, when I found Aunt Sarah and you were 
admitted. Dear uncle, I am sure it was not a very pleasant place 
I had to receive you and my aunt; but we must put up with all 
trials until we depart this life. I am sure it will grieve you very 
much to leave me in such a place, on the evidence of such characters 
as the witnesses were that swore my life away. But I forgive them, 
and may God forgive them. I am dying, thank God ! an Irishmau 
and a Christian. Give my love to all friends ; same from your 
ever affectionate nephew, 

W. P. Allen. 

Pray for us. Good by, and remember me. Good by, and may 
Heaven protect ye, is the last wish of your dying nephew, 

W. P. Allen. 

Larkin was the only one of the condemned four who was 
married. There were to weep his fall, besides his aged 
parents, a devoted wife and three little children — all young ; 
and it redounds rather to his honor, that, though flinching 
in nowise, lacking nought in courageous firmness, home 
ties were painfully strong around his heart. With him 
it was anguish indeed to part forever from the faithful wife 
and little ones who used to nestle in his bosom. Ah ! he 
was never more to feel these little arms twining round his 
neck — never more to see those infant faces gazing into his 
own — never more to part the flaxen curls over each 
unfurrowed brow ! Henceforth they would look for his 
coming and hearken for his footfall in vain ! They would 
call upon him, and be answered only by the convulsive 
sobs of their widowed mother. And who would now fill 
his place for them, even as a bread-winner? Mayhap, 
when he lay in the grave, these cherished little ones, for 
whom he would draw the life-blood from his heart, would 
feel the hunger-pangs of orphanage in squalid misery and 
obscurity ! But no. If such a thought approached Lar- 
kin's heart, it was at once repelled. Assuredly, he had 
more faith in his countrymen — more faith in the fidelity 
and generosity of his race — than to believe they would 
suffer one of those orphans to want loving, helping, 
guiding hands. As he himself said, he was not, after all, 



48 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

leaving them fatherless: he was bequeathing them to 
Ireland and to God. 

And the Father of the fatherless, even on the instant, 
raised up a friend for them — sent an angel missioner of 
blessed comfort to give poor Larkin, even on the brink of 
the grave, assurance that no pang of poverty should ever 
wound those little ones thus awfully bereaved. One 
day the confessor met the prisoners with beaming face, 
holding in his hand a letter. It was from the Dowager 
Marchioness of Queensberry to the condemned Irishmen 
in Salford gaol ; and ran as follows : — 

My Dear Friends : — 

It may be that these few lines may minister some con- 
solation to you on your approaching departure from this world. I 
send you by the hands of a faithful messenger some help for your 
wife, or wives, and children, in their approaching irreparable loss, 
and with the assurance that, so long as I live, they shall be cared for 
to the utmost of my power. 

Mr. M'Donnell, the bearer of this for me, will bring me their 
address, and the address of the priest who attends you. 

It will also be a comfort for your precious souls to know that 
we remember you here at the altar of God, where the daily remem- 
brance of that all-glorious sacrifice on Calvary, for. you all, is not 
neglected. 

We have daily Mass for you here; and if it be so that it please 
the good God to permit you thus to be called to Himself on Satur- 
day morning, the precious body and blood of Our Lord and Saviour 
and our Friend will be presented for you before God, at eight o'clock, 
on that day — that blood so precious, that cleanses from all sin. 
May your last words and thoughts be Jesus. Kest on Him, who is 
faithful, and willing and all-powerful to save. Rest on Him, and 
on His sacrifice on that Cross for you, instead of you, and hear Him 
say, " To-day thou shall be with me in Paradise.'' Yet will we 
remember your souls constantly at the altar of God, after your de- 
parture, as well as those whom you leave in life. 

Farewell ! and may Jesus Christ, the Saviour of sinners, save us 
all, and give you His last blessing upon earth, and an eternal con- 
tinuance of it in heaven. 

Caroline Queensberry. 

This letter enclosed c£100. On hearing it read, poor 
Larkin burst into tears ; the other prisoners were also 
deeply affected. Surely, never was act more noble ! Never 
was woman's sex more exalted — never was woman's mis- 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 49 

sion more beautifully exemplified, than by this glorious 
act of bravery, tenderness, and generosity. 

Two days" before the fatal 23d, the calm resignation 
which the condemned by this time enjoyed was once more 
cruelly disturbed, and almost destroyed. Once again the 
government came to rill their hearts with the torturing hope, 
if not, indeed, the strong conviction, that after all, even 
though it should be at the foot of the gallows, they would 
one and all be reprieved. Another man of the five in- 
cluded in the vitiated verdict was reprieved — Shore was to 
have his sentence commuted. 

This second reprieve was the most refined and subtle 
tortuie to men who had made up their minds for the worst, 
and who, by God's strengthening grace, had already become, 
as it were, dead to the world. It rendered the execution 
of the remaining men almost an impossibility. Maguire 
notoriously was innocent even of complicity in the rescue — 
the verdict of the sworn jury, concurred in by the " learned 
judge," to the contrary notwithstanding. But Shore was 
avowedly a full participator in the rescue: he was no more, 
no less, guilty than Allen, Larkin, O'Brien. In the dock 
he proudly gloried in the fact. What wonder if the hapless 
three, as yet unrespited, found the wild hope of life surging 
irresistibly through heart and brain ! 

To the eternal honor of the artisans of London be it 
told, they signalized themselves in this crisis by a human- 
ity, a generosity, that will not soon be forgotten by Irish- 
men. At several crowded meetings they adopted memo- 
rials to the government, praying for the respite of the 
condemned Irishmen — or rather, protesting against their 
contemplated execution. These memorials were pressed 
with a devoted zeal that showed how deeply the honest 
hearts of English workingmen were stirred ; but the news- 
paper press — the "high-class" press especially — the en- 
lightened " public instructors" — howled at, reviled, and 
decried these demonstrations of humanity. The Queen's 
officials treated the petitions and petitioners with cor- 
responding contempt; and an endeavor to approach the 
Sovereign herself, then at Windsor, resulted in the contu- 
melious rejection from the palace gate of the petitioners, 



50 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

who were mobbed and hooted by the tradesmen and 
flunkeys of the royal household ! 

In Ireland, however, as might be supposed, the respite 
of Shore was accepted as settling the question : there 
would be no execution. On the 21st of November men 
heard, indeed, that troops were being poured into Man- 
chester, that the streets were being barricaded, that the 
public buildings were strongly guarded, and that special 
constables were being sworn in by thousands. All this 
was laughed at as absurd parade. Ready as were Irish- 
men to credit England with revengeful severity, there was, 
in their opinion, nevertheless, a limit even to that. To 
hang Allen, O'Brien, and Larkin now, on the broken-down 
verdict, would, it was judged, be a measure of outrage 
which even the fiercest hater of England would frankly 
declare too great for her. 

A few there were, however, who did not view the situa- 
tion thus. They read, in the respite of Shore, fear ; and 
they gloomily reflected that justice or magnanimity towards 
the weak seldom characterizes those who exhibit cowardice 
towards the strong. Shore was an American. By this 
simple sentence a flood of light is thrown on the fact of 
respiting him alone amongst the four men admittedly con- 
cerned in the rescue. Shore was an American. He had a 
country to avenge him, if legally slaughtered on a vitiated 
verdict. To hang him was dangerous ; but as for Allen, 
Larkin, and O'Brien, tliey had no country (in the same 
sense) to avenge them. America was strong, but Ireland 
was weak. If it was deemed dangerous to sport with the life 
of the American, it was deemed safe to be brutal and 
merciless towards the Irishmen. On these the full arrear 
of British vengeance might be glutted. 

But there were not many to discern, in the first flush of 
its proclamation, this sinister aspect of Shore's respite. The 
news reached Ireland on Friday, 22d November, and was, 
as we have already said, generally deemed conclusive evi- 
dence that the next day would bring like news in reference 
to Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien. 

Early next morning — Saturday, 23d November, 1867 — : 
men poured into the cities and towns of Ireland reached 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 51 

by telegraphic communication, to lean "the news from 
Manchester." Language literally fails to convey an idea 
of the horror — the stupefaction — that ensued when that 
news was read : — 

" This morning, at eight o'clock, the three condemned 
Fenians, Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien, were executed in 
front of Salford GaoV 

Men gasped in awe-struck horror — speech seemed denied 
them. Could it be a dream, or was this a reality ? Had 
men lived to see the day when such a deed could be done? 
For the reason that incredulity had been so strong before, 
wild, haggard horror now sat on every countenance, and 
froze the life-blood in every heart. Irishmen had lain 
quiescent, persuaded that in this seventh decade of the nine- 
teenth century, some humanizing influences would be found 
to sway that power that in the past, at least, had ever been 
so merciless to Irish victims. But now ! Alas ! 

In that dreadful hour the gulf between the two nations 
seemed widened and deepened, until it gaped and yawned 
wide, deep, and dark as hell itself. There was a scowl 
on every brow. Men went about — sullen, moody, silent, 
morose — with clenched teeth and darkened faces, terrible 
passions raging in their bosoms. For all knew that the 
sacrifice of those Irish patriots was a cold-blooded and 
cowardly act of English policy, more than a judicial pro- 
ceeding — an act of English panic, cowardice, hate, and 
terror. All knew that Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien would 
never have been hanged on the evidence of those forsworn 
witnesses, and on the verdict of that jury, whose perjury 
or blunder was openly confessed and proclaimed, but for 
the political aspirations and designs of which the rescue 
was judged to be an illustration. Had their offence been 
non-political, they would not have been held a day on 
such a verdict. They were put to death for their political 
opinions. They were put to death for political reasons. 
Their execution was meant to strike terror into Irishmen 
daring to mutter of liberty. Had they been Americans, 
like Shore, they would have been respited ; but, as they 
were Irishmen, they were immolated. 

The full story of how those patriots met their fate at tho 



52 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

last reached Ireland two days afterwards, and intensified a 
thousand-fold the national emotions. Men were alternately 
melted into tears or maddened into passion, as they read 
that sad chapter of Irish martrydom. 

Even before the respite of Shore, the government had 
commenced the most formidable military preparations in 
view of the bloody act of state policy designed for the 
23d. Troops were hurried by rail to all the English 
cities and towns where an "Irish element" existed; and 
Manchester itself resembled a city besieged. The authori- 
ties called for " special constables," and partly attracted 
by the plenteous supply of drink and free feeding,* and 
partly impelled by their savage fury against the " finish " 
or the "Fenians" — suddenly become convertible terms 
with English writers and speakers — a motley mass of 
several thousands, mainly belonging to the most degraded 
of the population, were enrolled. All the streets in the 
neighborhood of the prison were closed against public 
traffic, were occupied by police or " specials," and were 
crossed at close intervals by ponderous wooden barriers. 
Positions commanding the space in front of the scaffold 
w ere strategetically scanned, " strengthened," and occupied 
by military. The scaffold was erected in a space or gap 
made in the upper part of the outer or boundary wall of 
the prison in New Bailey-street. The masonry was re- 
moved to the width necessary for the scaffold, which was 
then projected over the street, at the outer side of the wall. 
It was approached or ascended from the prison yard below, 
by a long wooden stair or stepladder, close alongside the 
wall on the inside. Against the wall on the inner side, on 
either hand of the scaffold, were erected platforms within 
about four feet below the wall coping. These platforms 
were filled with soldiers, " crouching down," as the re- 
porters described, " with the muzzles of their rifles just 
resting on the top of the wall." The space in the street 
immediately beneath the scaffold was railed off by a 

* The Manchester papers inform us that the specials were plenti- 
fully fed with hot pork pies, and beer ad libitum, which seemed to 
have a powerful effect in bringing in volunteers from the lower 
classes. 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 53 

strong wooden barrier, and outside this barrier were massed 
the thousands of police, special constables, and volunteers. 
On Friday the doomed men took leave for the last time 
of the few relatives allowed to see them. The parting 
of Larkin and his family is described as one of the most 
agonizing scenes ever witnessed. Poor Allen, although 
not quite twenty years of age, was engaged to a young 
girl whom he loved, and who loved him most devotedly. 
She was sternly refused the sad consolation of bidding 
him farewell. In the evening the prisoners occupied 
themselves for some time in writing letters, and each of 
them drew up a " declaration," which they committed to 
the chaplain. They then gave not another thought to this 
world. From that moment until all was over, their whole 
thoughts were centred in the solemn occupation of pre- 
paring to meet their Creator. In these last hours Father 
Gadd, the prison chaplain, was assisted by the Very Rev. 
Canon Cantwell and the Rev Father Quick, whose atten- 
tions were unremitting to the end. From the first the 
prisoners exhibited a deep, fervid, religions spirit, which 
could scarcely have been surpassed among the earliest 
Christian martyrs. They received holy communion 
every alternate morning, and spent the greater part of 
their time in spiritual devotion. On Friday evening they 
were locked up for the night at the usual hour — about 
half-past six o'clock. In their cells they spent a long 
interval in prayer and meditation — disturbed ever and 
anon, alas ! by the shouts of brutal laughter and boister- 
ous choruses of the mob already assembled outside the 
prison walls. At length the fated three sought their dun- 
geon pallets for the last time. " Strange as it may appear," 
says one of the Manchester papers chronicling the execu- 
tion, u those three men, standing on the brink of the 
grave, and about to suffer an ignominious death, slept as 
soundly as had been their wont." Very " strange," no 
doubt, it appeared to those accustomed to see criminals 
die ; but no marvel to those who know how innocent men, 
at peace with God and man, can mount the scaffold, and 
cffer their lives a sacrifice for the cause of liberty. 

Far differently that night was spent by the thronging 



54 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

countrymen of Broad head, who came as to a holiday to 
see the "Fenians die." Early on the preceding evenirg 
crowds had taken up their places wherever the occupy- 
ing bodies of the military, police, or specials did not 
prevent; and the pictures drawn of their conduct by the 
newspaper reporters, one and all, are inexpressibly re- 
volting. It was the usual English crowd assembled to 
enjoy an execution. They made the air resound with 
laughter at obscene jokes, shouts, cries and repartees; and 
chorused in thousands (beneath the gallows !) snatches of 
" comic" ballads and pot-house songs, varied by verses of 
" Rule Britannia 7 ' and " God Save the Queen," by way of 
exultation over the Irish. Once or twice, in the early 
part of the night, the police had to remove the mob from 
the portion of the prison nearest the coudemned cells, as 
the shouts and songs were painfully disturbing the hap- 
less men engaged at that moment preparing for eternity. 

Saturday, the 23d November, dawned misty, murky, 
dull, and cold over Salford. During the first hours after 
the past midnight the weather had been clear and frosty, 
and a heavy hoar covered the ground ; but as daylight 
approached, a thick mist or fog crept like a pallid pall 
over the waking city. 

The condemned were roused from sound and tranquil 
slumbers about a quarter to five o'clock. Having dressed, 
they attended Mass, Rev. Canon Cantwell, Rev. Mr. 
Gadd, and Rev. Mr. Quick officiating. They heard this, 
their last Mass, with a fervor and solemnity which no 
words could describe. The Holy Sacrifice having been 
offered, the condemned and the three priests remained in 
prayer and spiritual exercises until seven o'clock, when 
the prisoners partook of breakfast. " The last prepara- 
tions," says an English eye-witness, " were then begun." 
At twelve minutes to eight o'clock the executioner, 
Oalcraft, and his assisiant, were introduced into the cell 
in which the prisoners were placed, and the process of 
pinioning their arms was gone through. The priests stood 
bv the side of the unhappy men, administering the con- 
flations of religion, and exhorting them to firmness to 
meet the last dreadful ordeal. " The convicts at this time," 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 55 

continues the English reporter, " manifested a remarkable 
fortitude. Not one of them flinched in the least." 

The same eye-witness describes as follows the last act 
of the tragedy, with a brief general sketch of which we 
commenced this narrative : — 

" At a quarter to eight o'clock the interior court of the 
gaol presented a strange and striking spectacle. Behind 
the wall in New Bailey -street was erected the long stair- 
case leading to the scaffold, and by its side were platforms 
for the use of the military. The fog was so dense, that 
objects could be but faintly distinguished at a- distance of 
thirty yards. Suddenly the words of military command 
were heard, and a company of the 72d Highlanders 
marched round the Roundhouse, and took up- a position in 
line at the foot of the staircase. Simultaneously, small 
detachments of the same regiment ascended to the plat- 
form, and crouched there, with their loaded rifles slightly 
projecting over the prison wall. At almost the same mo- 
ment the heads of a line of soldiers arose above the 
parapet of the railway viaduct. A line of warders was 
formed in the gaol court. The sentries on duty ceased 
their walk j magistrates and reporters stood aside, and 
a dead silence prevailed for a few moments, as a signal 
was given from the corner of the Roundhouse. At three 
minutes past eight o'clock the solemn voice of a minister 
repeating the litany of the Catholic Church was heard, 
and the head of the procession became visible through a 
thick fog, about thirty yards from the foot of the staircase. 
The Rev. Canon Cantwell walked first by the side of 
Allen. The convict was deadly pale; his eyes wandered 
alternately from the priests to the individuals standing 
round, and then he uplifted his gaze, in a vain endeavor 
to pierce the dense canopy which hung above him. He 
walked with a tolerably steady step, and uttered the 
response, * Lord, have mercy upon us/ in a firm voice." 

Next to him came Larkin, in whose appearance con- 
finement and anxiety of mind had wrought a striking 
change. His physical strength seemed shaken, and he 
required to be assisted by one of the warders in ascend- 
ing the long wooden stair that led to the scaffold. Last 



56 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

of all came O'Brien, whose noble, firm, and dignified 
bearing won the approbation of every one who beheld 
him. A partition running in the line of the wall divided 
the scaffold into an outer and an inner platform, a small 
door opening between them. Allen and O'Brien, and 
their attendants, having reached the top of the stair, 
waited on the inner platform until Larkin and the rest of 
the attendant warders and officials came up. Then, all 
being ready, the door was flung open, and the boy- 
martyr was first led out upon the drop. His face, which 
was deathly pale, appeared working with the effects of 
strong mental agony. The high-priest of English rule 
over Irishmen, Calcraft, came forward, placed the treach- 
erous noose around Allen's neck, pulled a thin white cap 
over his ashen face, and then stooped, and securely tied 
his feet together. The pinioning of the arms, which had 
been done in the cell, allowed his hands, from the elbows 
downward, sufficient freedom to clasp on his breast a 
crucifix, which ever and anon, as he spoke aloud the 
response of the litany, the poor young fellow seemed to 
press closer and closer to his heart. 

Next O'Brien was led forth. On his fine, manly face 
the closest scrutiny could not detect a trace of weakness. 
He looked calmly and sadly around ; then, stepping up 
to where Allen stood capped and pinioned, he clasped 
him by the hand, and kissed him affectionately on the 
cheek, speaking to him a word or two not overheard. 
Then O'Brien himself was placed by Calcraft on the drop, 
the rope was fixed upon his neck, the cap was drawn on 
his face, and his feet were securely bound. 

Larkin was now brought out, and led directly to his 
place on the left hand of O'Brien, who was in the middle. 
The sight of his two brother-martyrs capped and pinioned, 
and with the fatal cord around each neck, seemed to unman 
the poor fellow utterly. He stumbled on touching an uneven 
plank on the scaffold, so that many thought he had fainted ; 
but it was not so, though he unquestionably was laboring 
under intense agony of mind. O'Brien, firm and unshrink- 
ing to the last, turned and looked at him encouragingly, 
and to him also spoke a few words in a low tone. 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 57 

Calcraft now disappeared from view, and the three men 
stood for a moment before the multitude, their voices ring- 
ing out clearly in the still morning air, "Lord Jesus, 
have mercy on us." Suddenly the click of the holts was 
heard ; the three bodies sunk through the traps ; England's 
three halters strained and tugged and twitched convul- 
sively for a few moments, and the deed was done — her 
vengance was accomplished. 

That afternoon her functionaries bore to three grave- 
pits in the prison-yard three lumps of lifeless clay, that a 
few short hours before had been three of God's noblest 
creatures. Like carrion, they were flung into those uncon- 
secrated pits, and strewed with quicklime. For this was 
British law. The wolf and the tiger leave some vestiges 
of their victims j but a special ordinance of English law 
required even the corpses of those martyred Irishmen to 
be calcined. 

They had purposed addressing the crowd from the 
scaffold, but were prevented from so doing by order of the 
government! They had each one, however, committed 
to writing, as already mentioned, a last solemn message to 
the world. These declarations of the dying men were 
intrusted to the care of their confessor, who eventually 
gave them up for publication. They created the most 
intense and painful sensation in Ireland. They made 
more and more clear the dreadful fact that the hapless men 
had been cruelly sacrificed. Standing, as it might be 
said, in the presence of their God and Judge, they one 
and all protested their innocence, and declared the false- 
ness of the evidence on which they had been convicted. 
But not in querulous repining or denunciation were these 
truths proclaimed, but in language and with sentiments 
worthy of men who professed the faith preached by the 
Crucified on Calvary. Every line breathed the purest 
humility, the most perfect resignation, and the most intense 
devotion to God, mingled with the most fervent love of 
country. Those men were all of humble circumstances in 
life, and, with the exception of O'Brien, had but sliglit 
literary advantages; yet the simple pathos, beauty, and 
eloquence of their dying messages moved every heart. 



58 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

Poor Larkin was, of all three, the least endowed with 
education, yet his letter has been aptly described as " a 
perfect poem in prose." We here append those memor- 
able documents : — 

DECLARATION OF WILLIAM PHILIP ALLEN. 

I wish to say a few words relative to the charge for which I am 
to die. In a few hours more I will be going before my God. I 
state, in the presence of that great God, that I am not the man who 
shot Sergeant Brett. If that man's wife is alive, never let her think 
that I am the person who deprived her of her husband ; and if his 
family is alive, let them never think I am the man who deprived 
them of their father. 

I confess I have committed other sins against my God, and I hope 
He will accept of my death as a homage and adoration which I owe 
His Divine Majesty, and in atonement for my past transgressions 
against Him. 

There is not much use in dwelling on this subject much longer ; 
for by this time I am s-ure it is plain that I am not the man that 
took away the life of Sergeant Brett. 

I state this to put juries on their guard for the future, and to have 
them inquire into the characters of witnesses before they take away 
the live* of innocent men. But, then, I ought not to complain. 
Was not our Saviour sold for money, and His life sworn away by 
false witnesses? With the help of the great God, I am only dying 
to a world of sorrow to rise to a world of joy. Before the judgment- 
seat of God there will be no false witnesses tolerated; every one 
must render an account for himself. 

I forgive all the enemies I ever may have had in this world. May 
God forgive them. Forgive them, sweet Jesus, forgive them ! I also 
ask pardon ot all whom I have injured in any way. 

In reference to the attack on the van, I confess I nobly aided in 
the rescue of the gallant Colonel Kelly and Captain Deasey. It is 
well known to the whole world what my poor country has to suffer, 
and how her sons are exiles the world over; then tell me where is 
the Irishman who could look on unmoved, and see his countrymen 
taken prisoners , and treated like murderers and robbers in British 
dungeons? 

May the Lord have mercy on our souls, and deliver Ireland from 
her sufferings. God save Ireland ! 

William Philip Allen. 



DECLARATION OF MICHAEL LARKIN. 

Men of the world — I, as a dying man, going before my God, 
solemnly declare I have never fired a shot in all my life, much less the 
day the* attack was made on the van, nor did I ever put a hand to 
the van. The world will remember the widow's son's life that was 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 59 

sworn away, by which he leaves a wife and four children to mourn 
a loss. I am not dying for shooting Brett, but for mentioning 
Colonel Kelly's and Deasey's names in the court. I am dying a pa- 
triot for my God and my country, and Larkin will be remembered 
in time to come by the sons and daughters of Erin. 

Farewell, dear Ireland, for I must leave you, and die a martyr 
for your sake. Farewell, dear mother, wife, and children, for I 
must leave you all for poor Ireland's sake. Farewell, uncles, aunts, 
and cousins, likewise sons and daughters of Erin. I hope in heaven 
we will meet another day. God be with you. Father in heaven, 
forgive those that have sworn my life away. I forgive them and 
the world. God bless Ireland ! 

Michael Larkin. 



DECLARATION OP MICHAEL O'BRIEN. 

I have only to make these few remarks : I did not use a revolver 
or any other firearm, or throw stones, on the day that Colonel Kelly 
and Captain Deasey were so gallantly rescued. I was not present, 
too, when the van was attacked. I say this, not by way of repi oach, 
or to give annoyance to any peison ; but I say it in the hope that 
witnesses may be more particular when identifying, and that juries 
may look more closely to the character of witnesses, and to 
their evidence, before they convict a person to send him before 
his God. I trust that those who swore to seeing me with a re- 
volver, or throwing stones, were nothing more than mistaken. I 
forgive them from my heart, and likewise I forgive all who have 
ever done me or intended to do me any injury. I know I have 
been guilty of many sins against my God ; in satisfaction for those 
sins I have tried to do what little penance I could, and having re- 
ceived the sacraments of the Church, I have humbly begged that 
He would accept my sufferings and death, to be united to the 
sufferings and death of His innocent Son, through whom my suffer- 
ings can be rendered acceptable. 

My Redeemer died a more shameful death, as far as man could 
make it, that I might receive pardon from Him and enjoy His glory- 
in heaven. God grant it may be so. I earnestly beg my country- 
men in America to heal their differences, to unite in God's name for 
the sake of Ireland and liberty. I cannot see any reason, even the 
slightest, why John Savage should not have the entire confidence of 
ell his countrymen. With reference to Colonel Kelly, I believe 
him to be a good, honorable man, unselfish, and entirely devoted to 
the cause of Irish freedom. 

Michael O'Brien. 

So ends the story of the memorable events which gave 
three new names to the list of Ireland's martyrs ; so closes 
the sad and thrilling record which tells how Allen, Larkin, 



CO THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

and O'Brien died. Over the neglected plot in which 
their calcined remains are lying, no stone stands inscribed 
with their names — no emblem to symbolize their religion 
or their nationality. But to that gloomy spot the hearts 
of the Irish people will ever turn with affectionate remem- 
brance ; and the day will never come when, in this the 
land that bore them, the brave men whose ashes repose 
within it will be forgotten. 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 61 



THE CRUISE OF THE JAOKMEL. 

There was wild commotion among the Irish people in 
America, when on the 6th of March, 1867, the Atlantic 
cable flashed across to them the news that on the previous 
night the Fenian circles, from Louth to Kerry, had turned 
out in arms, and commenced the long-promised rebellion. 
It was news to send a thrill of excitement through every 
Irish heart — to fire the blood of the zealous men who for 
years had been working to bring the Irish question to this 
issue ; and news to cause a profound and anxious thought 
to that large class of Irishmen who, deeply occupied with 
commercial and professional pursuits, are less energetic 
than the members of the Fenian Brotherhood in their 
political action, but who scarcely differ from them in 
principle. It was, for all who had Irish blood in their 
veins and Irish sympathies in their hearts, a serious con- 
sideration that once again the banner of insurrection 
against English rule had been unfurled in Ireland, and 
that on many a spot of Irish earth the organized forces of 
England were in conflict with hastily-collected, ill-supplied, 
and almost unarmed levies of Irish patriotism. 

The question, whether the cause of Ireland would be 
advantaged or injured by the struggle and its inevitable 
results, was differently answered by different minds. Some 
saw in the conflict nothing but defeat and suffering for the 
country — more, gyves and chains — more, sorrow and hu- 
miliation for her sons, and a fresh triumph for the proud and 
boastful power of England. Others, while only too well 
convinced that the suppression of the insurrectionary 
movement was sure to be speedily accomplished, viewed 
the position with a certain fierce and stern satisfaction, 
and discerned therein the germ of high hopes for the future. 

But to certain of the Fenian leaders and Fenian circles 
in America, the news came with a pressing and peculiar 
interest. They were largely responsible for the outbreak ; 



G2 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

the war was, in a manner, their war. Their late Head 
Centre, James Stephens, was chargeable with it only in a 
certain degree. He had promised to initiate the struggle 
before the 1st of January of that year. Conscious that 
his veracity was regarded in somewhat of a dubious light 
by many of his followers, he reiterated the declaration with 
all possible passion and vehemence, and even went the 
length of swearing to it by invocations of the Most High, 
before public assemblies of his countrymen. When the 
time came for the fulfilment of his pledges he failed to 
keep them, and was immediately deposed from his posi- 
tion by the disappointed and enraged circles which had 
hitherto trusted him. But in the meantime, reiving on his 
engagement to lead off an insurrection in Ireland, those 
circles had made certain preparations for the event, and a 
number of their members, brave Irishmen who had had 
actual experience of war in the armies of America, had 
crossed the Atlantic, and landed in England and Ireland, 
to give the movement the benefit of their services. To 
these men the break-down of James Stephens was a 
stunning blow, an event full of shame and horror ; they 
felt their honor compromised by his conduct; they con- 
sidered that they could not return to America with their 
mission unattempted, and they resolved to establish 
their own honesty and sincerity at all events, as well as 
the courage and earnestness of the Fenian Brotherhood in 
Ireland, by taking the desperate course of engaging 
forthwith in open insurrection. It was in conformity 
with their arrangements, and in obedience to their direc- 
tions, that the rising took place on the night of the 5th of 
March, 1867. 

The ill-success which attended the attempted insurrec- 
tion was reported in America almost as soon as it was 
known in Ireland, by the agency of the Atlantic telegraph. 
But, whoever believed the statements of its speedy and 
utter collapse, which were forwarded through the cable, 
the Fenian circles certainly did not. They felt certain 
that the truth was being withheld from them; that the 
cable, which was an instrument in the hands of the 
British government, was being employed to mislead them ; 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 63 

and that, when it reported all quiet in Ireland, and no 
movement afoot save that of the British troops employed 
in "scouring" the mountains of Cork and Tipperary, there 
was, in reality, a guerilla warfare being waged over a 
great extent of the country, and many a tough fight was 
being fought in pass, and glen, and wood, amidst the 
picturesque scenery of the Munster counties. Their in- 
credulity was but natural. They had no reason whatever 
to rely on the truthfulness of the cable messages. If 
there had been Fenian successes to report, it is very likely 
that no fair account of them would have been allowed to 
pass by that route. Still, as day after day went by, and 
brought no news of battles lost or won by any party, the 
conviction began to force itself on the minds of the 
American Fenians that the movement in Ireland was 
hanging fire, and that it was going hard with the brave 
men who had committed themselves to it at the outset. It 
was necessary that something should be done, if those men 
were to be sustained, and the outbreak developed into a 
struggle worthy of the cause, and of the long years of pre- 
paration, the bold threats and the glowing promises of the 
Fenian Brotherhood, the risks they had incurred, and the 
sacrifices they had made. 

What was to be done ? What was needed to give force 
and power to the insurrectionary uprising in Ireland? 
They knew the answer. Arms and officers were wanted. 
To supply them, at least in some measure, was, therefore, 
the great object that now presented itself to their minds. 
How they sought to accomplish it is known to the public 
— if the Attorney-General and his witnesses, at the 
opening of the Commission in Dublin, in November, 1867, 
told a true story. 

Any references we shall here make to that particular sub- 
ject, that is to the alleged voyage of a Fenian cruiser con- 
veying men and arms from New York to Ireland, shall be 
derived entirely from the statements made in open court on 
that occasion, with an extract or two from a document 
otherwise published. We shall add nothing to them, 
neither shall we vouch for the authenticity of all or any 
of them, for, at the time of our writing, " the Crown," as 



64 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

the government lawyers call themselves, are not yet done 
with some of the cases arising out of this alleged expe- 
dition. But, taking the narrative as we find it in the news- 
paper reports of the trials of Colonel John Warner and 
Augustine E. Costello, and in the lecture delivered in 
America, under the auspices of the Fenian Brotherhood, by 
Colonel S. R. Tresilian, John Savage, Esq., C. E. F. Bl, 
in the chair, reported in the Irish People, New York, 
and in other journals, we summarize briefly, as follows, its 
chief particulars. 

It appears, then, that at the time to which we have 
referred, when the necessity of transmitting a quantity of 
arms, and sending a number of military leaders to Ireland 
for the sustainment of the insurrectionary movement, had 
impressed itself on the minds of the Fenian leaders in 
America, they resolved on an attempt to supply, to some 
extent, those requirements. Two ways were open to 
them of setting about this difficult and hazardous under- 
taking. One was to avail of the ordinary mail steamers 
and trading ships between the two countries, send the men 
across as ordinary passengers, and ship the arms as goods 
of different kinds. Much had been done in that way 
during the previous three or four years, but it was plainly 
too slow and uncertain a process to adopt on the present 
occasion. The other course was to procure a vessel for this 
special purpose, freight her with the men and arms, place 
her under the command of a skilful and experienced 
captain, and trust to his skill and luck for landing the 
entire in safety somewhere on the west coast of Ireland. 

This was the course adopted. How it was carried out, 
the Attorney-General, with whatever degree of authority 
may attach to his words in such a case, has thus de- 
scribed : — 

On the 12th of April, 1867, a party of forty or fifty men, almost 
all of whom had been officers or privates in the service of the 
American government, went down from New York to Sandyhook, 
iu a steamer, a distance of about eighteen miles. There tbey found 
a brigantine of about 200 tons burden, which had been purchased 
for the expedition, and in that brigantine tbese men embarked, and 
sailed for Ireland. She was called the Jackmel and she sailed 
without papers or colors. For the purpose of keeping their move- 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD, 65 

ments as free from observation as possible these men embarked 
wUhout lug'age-a rather extraordinary thing m men the great 
SyWomhadbeenofficerain the American service The 
rimander of the expedition was named John F '£™f^ 
he had filled the office of brigadier-general m the American army, 
W was at one time a member of the American Congress. These 
nTenTad on b'ard a very large quantity of «£P-*£ £JHi 
no S o S cases for sewing machines, and wine barrels, in order to 

^SSSto av^il e^icion, and then shaped her eonr* 

?hat day as a festival, and they hoisted the green flag with a sun- 

it appeared that he was to san u> on B u ±j j, ti iprp he 

and arms; and if he found it impracticable to 'landtoto e, li e 

SSvff s* » -y ess wt an* 

arrived at Sligo Bay on the 20th of May. 

The learned gentleman then went on to describe certain 
occurrences alleged to have taken place on board the , vessel 
while she remained in and about Sligo Bay. He said that 
on one evening a hooker came alongside, from which a man, 
who appeared to be a gentleman, got on board the tag 
antine This person went down into the cab. n, conversed 
with the officers, and told them the landing could not be 
effected at Sligo, after which he returned on board the 
hooker, and sailed for the shore. The Attorney-General 
said : — 

About the 26th of May the ship left the ®&^ y J^J£J& 
of June she arrived at Dungarvan. During to*™?^™™^ 
were held on board. Provisions were running short, and jney couia 
were neia on "»<" u - TV.p«p matters were made the sub- 

l^t^XhinVhoai;-! offered the man on hoard £2 to put two 



66 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

men on shore. He went on board the brigantine, and when he did 
so, twenty-eight men, who were hitherto concealed, rushed on board 
his ship. He asked them if he should land them at Helwick Point, 
and they said no, because there was a coastguard station there. 
They were eventually landed about two miles from that point, and 
they were compelled to wade through water three-and-a-half feet 
deep to the shore. 

So far the learned gentleman, her Majesty's Attorney- 
General for Ireland. His statement was supported by 
the informations and the evidence of an informer, Daniel 
J. Buckley, the Judas of the expedition. He, however, 
represented Kavanagh as the captain of the vessel, and 
General James E. Kerrigan as chief of the military 
expedition. As to the armament on board, they had, he 
said, " some Spencer's repeating rifles, seven-shooters, and 
some Enfield rifles, Austrian rifles, Sharp's and Burnside's 
breechloaders, and some revolvers. There were about 
5,000 stands of arms on board, and three pieces of artillery, 
which would fire three-pound shot or shell. With these 
pieces the salute was fired on the occasion of hoisting the 
sunburst on Easter-Sunday. As regards ammunition, 
there were about a million and a half rounds on board." 

Colonel S. R. Tresilian, in the lecture already alluded 
to, gave the following facetious account of the warlike 
stores which were on board the vessel : — 

We found the cargo to consist of 5,000 rat-tail files of different 
sizes and descriptions. Then there were several smaller files that 
mechanics carry in their pockets; then again there was the flat file, 
in respectable numbers, that is used for cutting on either edge, 
and that is carried in a sheath, to prevent the mechanics from 
cutting their neighbors' fingers. These files were to be distributed to 
the paupers in Ireland, to enable them to sharpen their teeth, so that 
they could masticate animal food at the grand bai'becue that was to 
be given on the landing of our vessel. Another portion of the 
cargo was 200,000 puffballs and sugar-plums, for gratuitous dis- 
tribution among our English friends and brethren in Ireland. 

It, surely, was a daring venture to run that craft, 
freighted as she was, across the ocean, and sail her for 
days along the coast of Ireland. The lecturer gave the 
following account of her voyagings : — 

The craft made three landings in Ireland, and one in England, 
and they were very near being captured several times. At no time 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 67 

were they over twelve miles from a British man-of-war, a frigate, 
ram, or gun-boat, and were continually annoyed by pilots. They 
were at sea 107 days; 38 days from America to Ireland, in which 
they sailed 3,665 miles; 24 'days around the coast of Ireland and 
England, 2,023 miles; 47 days from Ireland to America, 3,577 
miles; making a grand total of 9,265 miles. 

As regards the return voyage, the lecturer gave the 
following information : — 

On the return trip they had, in starting from the coast of Ireland, 
one barrel of sound bread, one barrel of mouldy bread, one of rice, 
pork 6 lbs., one box of fish, one barrel of beef, one bushel of beans, 
two quarts of molasses, one half lb. of sugar, tea and coffee in 
sufficient quantities, and one-third rations of water. They ran out of 
everything except bread and water before reaching the_ Banks of 
Newfoundland, where they received assistance from a fishing-smack, 
and again, off Boston, from a vessel bound to San Francisco. They 
succeeded in landing the entire cargo safely in America, and it 
is now in the hands of the Fenian Brotherhood. 

It is a strange story altogether. The voyage of the 
vessel to and fro, and along the well- watched coast of 
Ireland, unchallenged by a British ship, is a fact of no 
small significance, even if it be not quite conclusive as 
regards the argument of the lecturer, that the Fenian 
Brotherhood of America can, when they please, land large 
supplies, men and arms, in Ireland. Then the interest of 
the narrative is greatly enhanced by some of its romantic 
incidents, more especially by the remarkable scene stated 
to have occurred on Easter-Sunday morning. 

News of the landing which had been effected near 
Dungarvan was quickly spread amongst the coastguards 
and the police, and a few hours afterwards some twenty- 
seven men were under arrest, charged with having 
come into the country under suspicious circumstances. 
Amongst them were two whose trials, for having formed 
part of an armed expedition destined to aid a rebellion 
in Ireland, have since been had at the Commission 
which opened in Dublin on the 28th of November, 
1867, and whose spirited defence of themselves in the 
dock it is our purpose to record in these pages. They 
were Colonel John Warren, of the American army, and 
Augustine E. Costello. 



68 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

The trial of the first-named of those gentlemen is likely, 
owing to the spirited and statesmanlike course which he 
adopted on the occasion, to become memorable for all time, 
and to have a prominent place in the history of two great 
nations— England and America. One of its results, now 
actually in progress, is an alteration, in the law of America, 
on a point of great importance to both countries ; and this 
alteration will necessitate a corresponding change, if not in 
the lav/, at least the practice, of the English courts. From 
these changes will ensue consequences of the utmost gravity 
to England, but of unquestionable advantage to the Irish 
people, and the cause which they have at heart : for all 
which, thename of Colonel Warren will long be held in 
honor and in grateful remembrance among his countrymen. 
> Colonel Warren, who is a native of the town of Clona- 
kilty in the county of Cork, and of respectable paren- 
tage, emigrated to the United States some twelve years 
ago, and, in due course of time, like most of his country- 
men who transfer their domicile to that free and great 
country, he took out papers of naturalization, and became 
one of its adopted citizens. That act of naturalization is 
the declaration of a contract between the American govern- 
ment, on the one hand, and the new-made citizen on 
the other, whereby the latter formally and solemnly transfers 
his allegiance to that government, and withdraws it from 
any other which might previously have had a claim on 
it j and whereby the government, on its part, in exchange 
for that allegiance, engages to extend to him all 
the liberties and rights possessed by its native-born 
subjects— the benefit of its laws, the full scope of 
its franchises, the protection of its flag. In this way 
many hundreds of thousands of men, hunted by British law 
and British policy out of Ireland, who have during recent 
years been added to the number of brave and devoted 
citizens possessed by the United States. But yet, it 
seems, the law of England affords no recognition to this 
transfer of allegiance, expressly denies the legality of any 
such act, and claims as subjects of the British Crown, 
not only all persons born within British jurisdiction, 
but also their sons and grandsons, wherever their 
domicile and their place of birth may be. Between the 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 69 

British law on the subject of allegiance and the American 
system of naturalization, there is, therefore, an irreconcila- 
ble discrepancy ; and the course taken by Colonel Warren, 
on his trial, was to bring this question of law between the 
two governments to a direct issue. He took his stand on 
his American citizenship; he claimed to be tried as an 
alien : and, the bench refusing to accede to his demand, 
he abandoned all legal defence, directed his counsel to 
withdraw from the case, and put it upon his government 
to maintain the honor and vindicate the laws of America, 
by affording him the protection to which he was entitled. 
Other Irishmen, naturalized citizens of America, had 
previously been tried and sentenced for Fenian practices, 
including acts done and words spoken by them in America, 
which would not have come within the cognizance of the 
court had they been tried otherwise than as British sub- 
jects : and in their addresses to the court they had made 
reference, proudlv and hopefully, to the fact that they were 
adopted sons of* that great country ; but none of them 
had struck upon a course so well calculated as that taken 
bv Colonel Warren to raise the international question, 
and necessitate a distinct and speedy solution of it. 

He had a good case to go before the jury, had he allowed 
himself to be legally defended, and he was perfectly 
aware of that fact ; but he clearly perceived that, by 
taking the other course, whatever might be the 
consequences to himself, he would be able to render better 
service both to his adopted country and his native land. 
He took that course, and it is, therefore, that he is to-day 
m a British convict prison, far away from his home and 
friends, from his wife and his children, subject to all the 
restraints and indignities imposed by England on the 
vilest and meanest of her criminals, and with a term of 
fifteen years of such treatment decreed to him. Let us 
be able to say, at least, that his countrymen are not 
unmindful of the sacrifice. 

In the course of the trial, which was had before Wnet 
Baron Pio-ot and Mr. Justice Keogh, in the Commission 
Court, Dublin, Colonel Warren offered some few remarks 
on the evidence, and put some questions to the witnesses, 



70 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

all of which showed considerable acumen on his part, and 
were thoroughly ad rem. He complained particularly of 
the manner in which his identification was obtained. 
Gallagher, who had piloted the Erin's Hope around 
the west coast of Ireland, swore to his identity as one of 
the party who were on board ; but the prisoner contended 
that Gallagher's knowledge of him was acquired, not 
on board that vessel, but in Kilmainham gaol, where 
Gallagher had been his fellow-prisoner for some weeks, 
during which time he had abundant opportunities of 
learning his, Colonel Warren's, name, and the charge 
against him. But it was a vain thing, as far as the jury 
were concerned, to indulge in such criticisms of the 
evidence. There were times in Irish and in English 
history, when juries could rise above the panic of the 
hour, and refuse to minister to the passion of the 
government, but we have fallen upon other times, and, 
nowadays, to be accused of a political crime means to 
be convicted. 

A verdict of " guilty" against Colonel Warren was re- 
turned as a matter of course. On Saturday, November 
the 16th, he, with two other prisoners, was brought up 
for sentence. On the usual interrogatory being put to 
him, the following proceedings took place : — 

Warren : — I claim the privilege established by precedent. I have 
had no opportunity of making any remarks on my case, and I 
would now wish to say a few words. 

The Chief Baron : — Just state what you have to say ; we are 
ready to hear you. 

Warren: — I desire, in the first place, to explaiu, while ignoring 
the jurisdiction of this court to sentence me. and while assuming 
my original position, my reasons for interfering in this case at all. 
I can see, beyond my present position, the importance of this case, 
and I was desirous to instruct the jury, either directly or indi- 
rectly, of the importance of their decision, while never for a mo- 
ment deviating from the position which I assumed. I submit that 
I effectually did that. They, incautiously, and foolishly for them- 
selves and the country of which they claim to be subjects, have 
raised an issue which has to be settled by a higher tribunal than this 
court. 

Chief Baron : — I cannot allow you to continue these observations. 

Prisoner : — I propose to show that the verdict is contrary to 
evidence. 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 71 



The Chief Baron :— I must again tell you that you are not at 
liberty to do that. 

Prisoner : — I propose to answer briefly the question why the 
sentence of the court should not be pronounced upon me. Do I 
understand you to refuse me that privilege? 

The Chief Baron : —Certainly not ; but I am bound in point of 
law to refuse to hear you upon any matter respecting the verdict. 
We are bound by that verdict just as much as you are. That is 
the law. 

Prisoner : — I have been indicted with a number of parties, one of 
whom had been identified in America. I have been tried and con- 
victed. What position do I stand in now ? Am I convicted on the 
evidence of Corydon, who swears that I belonged to the Fenian 
Brotherhood in 1863? Does that prove that I belonged to it in 
1867? 

The Chief Baron then explained that what he left to 
the jury was, that, if they believed npon the evidence that, 
on the* 5th of March, the prisoner belonged to the Fenian 
confederacy, having for its object the deposition of the 
Queen, he would be answerable for the acts done by his 
confederates, whether he was present or absent at the 
time. 

Prisoner : — You instructed the jury, at the same time, that the 
fact of my holding the position of a colonel in '63 was sufficient 
corroboration of the evidence that I belonged to it in 1867. 

The Chief Baron :— I told the jury that holding the rank of 
colonel was evidence for their consideration, upon which to deter- 
mine whether you previously belonged to the Fenian confederacy. 
I told them they were at liberty to consider whether you would 
have got that rank if you then joined for the first time. 

Prisoner : — Precisely the same thing, but in different phraseology. 
Am 1 to understand that I have not liberty to address the court as 
to why sentence should not be pronounced upon me ? 

The Chief Baron : — You are not so to consider. You are at 
liberty to address the court, but you are not at liberty to comment 
upon the evidence to show that the verdict was wrong. 

Prisoner : — What can I speak on ? To what can I speak, if not 
to something connected with my case ? I am not here to refer to a 
church matter or any political question. 

The Chief Baron : — I have informed you what we are bound to 
rule. 

Prisoner : — Then I state, my lords, that, as an American citizen, 
I protest against the whole jurisdiction of this court, from the com- 
mencement of my arraignment down to the end of my trial. ^ I pro- 
test against being brought here forcibly, and against my being con- 
victed on the evidence of a man whom you yourselves designated a 



12 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

man of the most odious character. You instructed the jury point- 
edly on one occasion, and subsequently, you said that no respectable 
jury could act on his evidence, and that, it was a calamity for any 
government to have to resort to the evidence of such a man. I 
do not wish to say anything disrespectful to this court, but I think 
I may say that, if I stand here as a convicted felon, the privilege 
should be accorded to me that has been accorded to every other per- 
son who stood here before me in a similar position. There is a 
portion of the trial to which I particularly wish to refer. This is, 
in reference to the oath which it was stated the pilot was forced to 
take on board the vessel. Much importance was attached to the 
matter, and therefore I wish to ask you and others in this court to 
look and to inquire if there is any man here who could suppose 
that I am scoundrel enough and ignorant enough to take an igno- 
rant man, put a pistol to his face, and force him to take an oath ? I 
ask you, in the first place, not to believe that I am such a scoundrel, 
and, in the second place, that I am not such an idiot. If I were at 
this moment going to my grave, I could say that I never saw that 
man Gallagher till I saw him in Kilmainham prison. These men, 
although they have been, day after day, studying lessons under able 
masters, contradicted each other on the trial and have been perjur- 
ing themselves. Gallagher, in his evidence, swore that his first and 
second informations were false, and that he knew them to be false. 
It is contrary to all precedent to convict a man on the evidence of a 
witness who admits that he swore what was false. In America, I 
have seen judges, hundreds of times, sentencing men who were 
taken off the table, put into the dock, and sent to prison. In this 
case this poor, ignorant man was brought into Kilmainham gaol on 
the 1st of July. He knew my name, heard it called several times, 
knew of the act of which I was suspected, and, on the 2d of 
August, he was taken away. On the 12th of October, he was 
brought back, and, out of a party of forty or fifty, he identifies only 
three. If that man came on board the vessel, he did so in his 
ordinary capacity as a pilot. He did his duty, got his pay, and left. 
His subsequent evidence was additions. With respect to the vessel, 
I submit that there was not a shadow of evidence to prove that 
there was any intention of a hostile landing, and that the evidence 
as to the identity of the vessel would not stand for a moment, 
where either law or justice would be regarded. Now, as to the 
Flying Dutchman which, it is said, appeared on the coast of 
Sligo and on the coast of Dungarvan, in Gallagher's information, 
nothing is said about the dimensions of the vessel. Neither length, 
breadth, nor tonnage is given, but, in making his second information, 
he revised the first. 

The prisoner then proceeded to argue that there was 
nothing to show that the vesssel which had appeared oft* 
Sligo harbor was the same as that which appeared oil 
Dungarvan, except the testimony of the informer Buckley, 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 73 

of which there was no corroboration. He also denied the 
truth of Corydon's evidence, in several particulars, and 
then went on to say : — 

As to the position in which I am now placed by British law, I 
have to repeat that I am an American citizen, and owe allegiance 
to the government of the United States. I am a soldier, and have 
belonged to the National Militia of America. Now, if war had 
broken out between the two countries, and that I had been taken 
prisoner, the English government, according to English law, 
would hold me guilty of high treason. I would not be treated as 
an ordinary prisoner of war, but would be liable to be strung up at 
the yard-arm. See then the position of England towards the United 
States. The Crown should not be in such haste to act thus. It 
was hardly a judicious policy. Andrew Johnson was the grandson 
of an Irishman ; Mr. Seward was the son of an Irishwoman ; 
General Jackson was the son of an Irishman ; General Washington 
and Benjamin Franklin lived and died British subjects, if this law 
be correct. There is another point to which I wish to refer — it is 
to the manner in which my government has acted in this matter — 

The Chief Baron :— We cannot allow you to enter into remarks 
on the conduct of any government. We have simply to sit here to 
administer the law which we are called upon to discharge. 

The Prisoner : — I wish simply to call your attention to one 
point. On the 3d of August I wrote to my government 

The Chief Baron:— I cannot allow you to refer to that. 

The Prisoner:— The President of the United States, on a 
report submitted to him 

The Chief Baron: — I cannot allow you to proceed with any 
reference to what has been done by any government. We have 
nothing to do with the conduct of any government. We are only 
here to administer the laws which we are sworn to administer. 

The Prisoner:— I was simply going to state that while the 
vile officials of your government 

the Chief Baron : — We have nothing to do with the conduct of 
any government. We are here to dispense justice according to law, 
and whatever the officials of our government or the American 
government have done cannot have the slightest influence upon our 
judgment. It can neither affect us favorably or unfavorably 
to the prisoner or to the Crown. We stand indifferently between 
both. 

The Prisoner: — I beg simply to call your lordship's attention to 
the correspondence • 

The Chief Baron :— We cannot allow you to do so. We cannot 
allow you to refer to the correspondence between the officials of one 
government and the officials of another. 

The Prisoner: — If America does not resent England's conduct 
towards me, and protect that allegiance to her government which 



?4 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

I proudly own is the only allegiance I ever acknowledged, I shall 
call on thirteen millions of Irishmen 

The Chief Baron:— I cannot allow.you to use the position in 
which you stand there as the arena for those observations. 

PRISONER: — I must then state, in conclusion, that, while I protest 
against the jurisdiction, I am confident that the position which I 
take will be sustained. I know that the verdict of the jury will be 
reversed, and, while returning you, my lord, thanks for your kind- 
ness during the trial, I must say you have taken from me the privi- 
lege I am entitled to get. I am sure that I shall live longer than 
the British Constitution. 







AUGUSTINE E. COSTELLO. 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 75 



AUGUSTINE E. COSTELLO. 

After the verdict had been returned against Colonel 
Warren, Augustine E. Costello was put on his trial 
charged with the same offence — that of having formed 
one of the invading party who landed from the Erin's 
Hope in the neighborhood of Dungarvan. He, too, 
was an adopted citizen of the United States, and he de- 
clared that he was anxious to follow the course that had 
been taken by his friend, Colonel Warren, in reference to 
his trial j but deferring to the strongly-expressed wish of 
his counsel, he would leave his case in their hands. An 
able defence was made for him by Messrs. Heron and 
Molloy, Q. C, instructed by Mr. Scallan, Solicitor ; but 
it was all in vain. When he was called on to say why 
sentence should not be pronounced on him, he delivered 
the following address in a loud tone of voice, his fresh 
young face glowing with emotion as he spoke, and his 
manner showing deep excitement, but withal a fearless 
and noble spirit : — 

In answer to the question put to me by the Clerk of the Court, 
I will speak a few words. I don't intend to say much, and I will 
trespass on forbidden ground but as little as possible. I am per- 
fectly satisfied that there has not been one fact established or proved 
that would justify a conscientious and impartial jury in finding me 
guilty of treason-felony. There is an extreme paucity of evidence 
against me — that every one who has been here while this case has 
been proceeded with, will admit frankly and candidly. We need no 
stronger proof of this fact than that the first jury that was em- 
panelled to try me had, after a long and patient hearing of the case, 
to be discharged without having found me guilty of treason-felony. 
Ah! there were a few honest men on that jury. They knew that 
Augustine E. Costello was not guilty of the crime trumped up 
against him. They knew I was not guilty. Mr. Anderson, sitting 
there, knows that I am not a felon, but that I am an honest man ; 
that as such I stand here in this dock, where Eobert Emmet stood, 
where Robert Emmet spoke from ; and the actions and the words 
of that Emmet have immortalized him, and he now lies embalmed 
in the hearts of the world. 



76 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

The Lord Chief Justice : — I cannot allow you to proceed in 
that strain. 

Costello : — I can say to those assembled here, and who are now 
listening to me, that I stand here, branded, as I am, a felon, but 
with a clear conscience. No one can point the finger of scorn 
against me, and say I have sold my brother and committed perjury. 
Can every man in this court-house lay his hand on his heart and 
say the same ? Answer me, Mr. Anderson. Answer me, Governor 
Price. 

The Lord Chief Baron : — You are again transgressing. You 
had better stop for a moment or two ; you seem to be excited. 

Costello : — My lord, as you truly remark, I have allowed my 
feelings to run away with my discretion ; but it is hard for a man to 
stand here, satisfied as I am of innocence, knowing full well that I 
have committed no wrong ; it is hard for a man in the bloom of 
youth, when the world looks fair and prosperous to him — when all 
he loves is in that world — it is hard that a man should be torn from 
it, and incarcerated in a living tomb. My lords, I am au humble 
individual ; I claim no rights but the rights that emanated from a 
Godhead — the rights that were given to me at the hour of my birth. 
That right is my inalienable liberty, and that no government, no 
people, has a right to take from me. I am perfectly satisfied, to 
stand before a British tribunal to answer for acts or words of mine, 
if I break any of the laws of the country ; but, my lords, you must 
admit that I have transgressed no law. His lordship, Judge 
Keogh — I must now candidly admit that I have heard a great deal 
about that gentleman that was not at all complimentary to him — 
but I say for myself that his lordship, Judge Keogh, has dealt with 
me in the fairest manner he could have done. I have nothing to 
say against the administration of the law, as laid down by you ; but 
I say a people who boast of their freedom — who hold up their 
magnanimous doings to the world for approval and praise — I say 
those people are the veriest slaves in existence to allow laws to exist 
for a moment which deprive a man of liberty. 

The Lord Chief Baron :— It is impossible for a court admin- 
istering the law to allow you to speak in such terms against 
such law. 

Costello : — I speak under correction, my lord. You must, if you 
please, be assured that I do not attribute any wrong to your lord- 
ships — far be it from me ; I acknowledge and again reiterate that, 
so far as the law is concerned, I have had a dose that has almost 
killed me ; but if there was a little — a very little — justice mixed 
in that law, I would not now be addressing your lordships. Of the 
haw I have had sufficient, but I have come to the conclusion that 
justice is not to be found inside a British court-house. My lords, I 
complain, and grievously, of what my friend, Colonel Warren, and 
my friend, General Halpin, complained — of being tried in this 
court as a British subject ; and I think your lordships will not repri- 
mand me much for that expression. I left the shores of my native 
land — Ireland is the land of my birth, and I am proud to own it. I 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 77 



am proud to say that I am an Irishman, but I am also proud and 
happy to state that I am an adopted citizen of the United States ; 
and while true to the land of my birth, I can never be false to the 
land of my adoption. That is not an original phrase, but it expresses 
the idea which I mean to convey. Now, my lords, my learned 
and very able counsel, who have conducted my case with the 
greatest ability and zeal, and of whom I cannot speak in terms of 
sufficient praise, demanded for me a jury half alien. I was refused 
it. I was born in this country, and I was, while breath remained 
in my body, a British subject. In God's name — if I may mention 
His holy name without sufficient reasons — what, affection should I 
have for England % You cannot stamp out the instincts that are in 
the breast of man — man will be man to the end of time— the very 
worm you tread upon will turn upon your feet. If I remained in 
this country till I descended to the grave, I would remain in 
obscurity and poverty. I left Ireland, not because I disliked 
the country — I love Ireland as I love myself — I left Ireland 
for the very good and cogent reason that I could not live in 
Ireland. But why could I not live here? I must not say; that 
would be trespassing. I must not mention why I was forced to 
leave Ireland — why I am now placed in this dock. Think you, my 
lords, that I would injure a living being — that I would, of my own 
free accord, willingly touch a hair upon the head of any manf No, 
my lords ; far would it be from me ; but the government which has 
left our people in misery — 

The Loud Chief Baron : — I cannot allow you to trespass on 
political grievances. 

Costello :— I am afraid I am occupying the time of the court too 
much, but really a man placed in such a position as I now occupy 
finds it necessary to make a few observations. I know it savors of 
a great deal that is bad and foul to be mixed up with Fenian rebels, 
assassins, and cutthroats. It is very bad ; it is not a very good 
recommendation for a young man. Even were that fact proved 
home to me — that I were a Fenian — no act of mine has ever thrown 
dishonor on the name. I know not what Fenian means. I am an 
Irishman, and that is all-sufficient. 

The prisoner then proceeded to criticize the evidence 
against him at considerable length. He declared emphati- 
cally that one of the documents sworn to be in his hand- 
writing was not written by him. He thus continued : — 

Your lordships are well aware that there are many contradictions 
in the informers' testimony, and now here is a matter which I am 
going to mention for the first time. Corydon, in his first informa- 
tion at Kilmainham, swears that he never knew me until he saw 
me at a Fenian picnic, and this he modifies afterwards by the remark, 
that any one would be allowed into these picnics on the payment 
of a certain sum. I did not pay much attention to what the fellow 



78 THE DOCK AKD THE SCAFFOLD. 

was saying about me, as I thought it did not affect me in the least ; 
but this I can distinctly remember, that Mr. Anderson, Jun. — and 
lie is there to say if I am saying anything false — said that the evi- 
dence ot Cory don did not affect any one of. the prisoners put in this 
dock but another and myself. It is very strange if that was said by 
Mr. Anderson. He knew that there was nothing more to be got out 
of Corydon the informer— that he had told everything he knew in 
his information, but on pressure there was found to be a little left in 
the sponge. They refreshed his memory a little, and he comes to 
think that he saw Costello at a meeting in 814 Broadway, I think 
he gives it. And here is a singular occurrence — that Devany, who 
never swore an information against me, comes on the table and 
swears that he also saw me at 814 Broadway. Here is one in- 
former striving to corroborate the other. It is a well-known 
lact that these informers speak to each other, go over the 
evidence, and what is more likely than that they should make 
their evidence agree — say, "I will corroborate your story, 
you corroborate mine" 1 ? By this means was it that the overt 
acts of the 5th of March, which took place at Stepaside, Glencullen, 
and Tallaght, were brought home to Costello — a man who was 
4,000 miles away, and living — and I say it on the word of a man, 
a Christian man — peaceably, not belonging to that confederation. 
I did not belong to the Fenian Brothei'hood for twelve months 
before I left America, if I did belong to it any other time, so help 
me God ! God witnesses what I say, and He records my words above. 
It is a painful position to be placed in. I know I am a little excited. 
Were I to speak of this matter under other circumstances, I would 
be more cool and collected. Were I conscious of guilt — did I know 
that I merited this punishment, I would not speak a word, but say 
that I deserved and well merited the punishment about to be 
inflicted upon me. But, my loixis, there never was a man convicted 
in this court more innocent of the charges made against him than 
Costello. The overt acts committed in the county of Dublin, 
admitting that the law of England is as it was laid down by your 
lordship, that a man, a member of this confederacy, if he lived 
in China, was responsible for the acts of his confederates — admitting 
that to be law — I am still an innocent man. Admitting and 
conceding that England has a right to try me as a British 
subject, I still am an innocent man. Why do I make these 
assertions'? I know full well they cannot have any effect 
in lessening the term of my sentence. Can I speak for the sake of 
having an audience here to listen to me? Do I speak for the 
satisfaction of hearing my own feeble viice? 1 am not actuated by 
such motives. I speak because I wish to let you know that I 
believe myself innocent; and he would be a hard-hearted man, 
indeed, who would grudge me those few sentences. Now, my 
lords, I have observed I did not belong to the Fenian confederacy in. 
March of this present year. I did not belong to the Fenian confed- 
eracy anterior to the period that Corydon and Devany allege that 
they saw me act as centre and secretary to Fenian meetings; that, 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD 79 



anterior to that period, I never took act or part in the Fenian con- 
spiracy up to the period of ray leaving America. Does it do me 
any good to make these statements ? I ask favors, as Halpin said, 
from no man. I ask nothing but justice — stern justice — even-handed 
justice. If I am guilty — if I have striven to overthrow the govern- 
of this country, if I have striven to revolutionize this country, I 
consider myself enough of a soldier to bare my breast to the conse- 
quences, no matter whether those consequences may reach me on the 
battle-held or in the cells of Peutonville. I am not afraid of 
punishment. I have moral courage to bear all that can be heaped 
upon me in Pentonville, Portland, or Kilmainham, designated by 
one of us as the modern Bastile. I cannot be worse treated, no 
matter where you send me to. There never was a more infernal 
dungeon on God's earth than Kilmainham. It is not much to the 
point, my lord. I will not say another word about it. I believe 
I saw in some of the weekly papers that it would be well to appoint 
a commission to inquire 

The Loud Chief Baron : — I cannot allow you to proceed with 
that subject. 

Costello : — I will not say another word. I will conclude now. 
There is much I could say, yet a man in my position cannot help 
speaking. There are a thousand and one points affecting me here, 
affecting my character as a man, affecting my life and well- 
being, and he would be a hard-hearted man who could blame me 
for speaking in strong terms. I feel that I have within me the seeds 
of a disease that will soon put me into an early grave, and I have 
within my breast the seeds of a disease which will never allow me 
to see the expiration of my imprisonment. It is, my lord, a disease, 
and I hope you will allow me to speak on this subject, which has 
resulted from the treatment I have been subjected to. I will pass 
over it as rapidly as I can, because it is a nasty subject — Kilmain- 
ham. But the treatment that I have received at Kilmainham — I 
will not particularize any man, or the conduct of any man — has 
• been most severe, most harsh, not fit for a beast, much less a human 
being. I was brought to Kilmainham, so far as I know, without 
any warrant from the Lord Lieutenant. I was brought on a charge 
the most visionary and airy. No man knew what I was. No one 
could tell me or specify to me the charge on which I was detained. 
I asked the magistrates at Dungarvan to advise me of these charges. 
They would not tell me. At last I drove them into such a corner 
as I might call it, that one of them rose up and said, with much 
force, "You are a Fenian." Now, my lords, that is a very accom- 
modating word. If a law man only breaks a window now, he is a 
Fenian. If I could bring, or it I had only the means of bringing 
witnesses from America, I would have established my innocence 
here without a probability of doubt. I would have brought a host 
of witnesses to prove that Costello was not the centre of a circle in 
1866. I would have brought a host of witnesses to prove that he 
was not the secretary of a circle — never in all his life. My lords, 
I speak calmly, and weigh well, and understand every word that I 



SO THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

say. If I speak wrong, time will bring the truth to the surface, 
and I would sooner have fifteen years added to my sentence than 
that any man might say 1 spoke from this dock, which I regard as 
a holy place, where stood those whom I revere as much as I do any 
of our saints 

The Lord Chief Baron: — I cannot suffer you to proceed thus. 

Costello: — I would not speak one word from this dock which I 
knew to be other than truth. I admit there is a great deal of suspi- 
cion, but beyond that there are no facts proved to bring home the 
charge against me. What I have stated are facts, every one of them. 
Now, my lords, is it any wonder that I should speak at random and 
appear a little bit excited ? I am not excited in the least. I would 
be excited in a degree were I expressing myself on any ordinary 
topic to any ordinary audience. It is my manner, your lordships 
will admit, and you have instructed the jury not to find me guilty, 
but to discharge me from the dock, if they were not positive that I 
was a Fenian on the 5th March. I believe these are the instructions 
that his lordship, Justice Keogh, gave to the jury — if I were not a 
Fenian on the 5th March, I was entitled to an acquittal. Well, I 
was not a Fenian at that time. I say so as I have to answer to 
God. Now, to conclude. I have not said much about being an 
American citizen. For why ? I am not permitted to speak on that 
subject. Now, as Colonel Warren remarked, if I am an American 
citizen, I am not to be held responsible but to the American govern- 
ment. I did not press myself on that government. They extended 
to me those rights and those privileges ; they said to me : "Come 
forward, young man ; enroll yourself under our banner, under our 
flag ; we extend to you our rights and privileges — we admit you to 
franchise." I came not before I was asked. The invitation was 
extended to me. I had no love then, and never will have, towards 
England, and I accepted the invitation. I did forswear allegiance 
to all foreign potentates, and more particularly I forswore all 
allegiance to the Crown of Great Britain. Your lordships say that 
the law of the land rules that I had no right to do anything of the 
kind. That is a question for the governments to settle. America is 
guilty of a great fraud if I am in the wrong. 

The Lord Chief Baron : — I cannot allow you to proceed in 
that line of argument. 

Costello: — I will take up no more of your time. If I am still a 
British subject, America is guilty. 

The Lord Chief Baron : — I cannot allow you to refer either to 
the American people or to the American government. 

Costello : — Would you allow me to state they enticed me from 
my allegiance to England ? Therefore she (America) is guilty of high 
treason "? 

The Lord Chief Baron: — We cannot allow you to speak on 
that subject. 

Costello: — I will conclude, then. I have nothing to say 
further than to thank your lordships for the latitude you have 
given me in these few remarks, and also to thank your lordships 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 81 

for your kindness during my trial. I know you have done me 
every justice; you did not strain the law against me; you did every- 
thing that was consistent with your duty to do, and I have nothing 
to complain of there. I must again thank my learned and able 
counsel for the able, zealous, and eloquent manner in which they 
defended me. I am at a loss for words to express the gratitude I 
owe to each and every one of those gentlemen who have so ably 
conducted my case. Now, my lords, I will receive that sentence 
which is impending. I am -prepared for the worst. I am prepared 
to be torn from my friends, from my relations, from my home. I 
am prepared to spend the bloom of my youth in a tomb more dark 
and horrible than the tomb wherein the dead rest. But there is one 
consolation that I will bring into exile — if I may so call that house 
of misery — a clear conscience, a heart whose still, small voice tells 
me that I have done no wrong to upbraid myself with. This is the 
consolation that I have — that my conscience is clear. I know it 
appears somewhat egotistical for me to speak thus, but it is a source 
of consolation for me that I have nothing to upbraid myself with ; 
and I will now say in conclusion, that, if my sufferings can ameli- 
orate the wrongs or the sufferings of Ireland, I am willing to be 
offered up as a sacrifice for the good of old Erin. 



82 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 



GENERAL W. HALPIST. 

At the same Commission, before the same judges who 
had tried the cases of Colonel Warren and Augustine E. 
Costello, General William Halpin was put on his trial for 
treason-felony. It was alleged that he was one of the 
military officers of the Fenian organization, and had been 
appointed to take command, in the Dublin district, in the 
rising which had taken place on the 5th of March ; and 
this it was sought to prove by the evidence of the inform- 
ers, Massey, Corydon, Devany, and others. 

General Halpin employed no counsel, and undertook 
the conduct of his case himself. The considerations that 
had induced him to take this course, he thus explained to 
the jury : — 

Two reasons operated on my mind, and induced me to forego the 
advantage I would derive from having some of the able and learned 
counsel that plead at this "bar. The first reason is, that if you, 
gentlemen, are a jury selected by the Crown, as juries are known 
to be selected heretofore in political cases — if you are, in fact, a 
jury selected with the express purpose of finding a verdict for the 
Crown — then, gentlemen, all the talent and ability that I could 
employ would avail me nothing. If, on the other hand, by any 
chance the Attorney-General permitted honest men to find their 
way into the box, then, gentlemen, lawyers were equally unneces- 
sary for me. 

Not an inaccurate view of the case, perhaps ; the expe- 
rience of the Fenian trials, from first to last, certain' y 
goes to support it. 

The general set about his work of defending himself, 
with infinite coolness and self-possession. He was 
supplied with a chair, a small table, and writing materials 
in the dock. When he had any notes to make, he sat 
down, cleaned and adjusted his spectacles, and wrote out 
what he wanted. When he wished to cross-examine a 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 83 

witness, he removed his glasses, came to the front of the 
dock, and put his questions steadily and quietly, without 
a trace of excitement in his manner, but always with a 
close application to the subject in hand. One could almost 
refuse to believe, while listening to him, that he had not 
been educated and trained for the bar; and undoubtedly 
many of those who wear wigs and gowns in her Majesty's 
courts are far from exhibiting the same degree of aptitude 
for the profession. But it was in his address to the jury 
that the remarkable talents of the man were most bril- 
liantly revealed. It was an extraordinary piece of 
argument and eloquence, seasoned occasionally with 
much quiet humor, and enriched with many passages 
that showed a high and courageous spirit. His scathing 
denunciations of the system of brutality practised towards 
the political prisoners in Kilmainham gaol, and his picture 
of Mr. Governor Price as "the old gorilla," will long be 
remembered. One portion of his remarks ran as follows : — 

The whole conduct of the Crown since my arrest has heen such 
as to warrant me in asserting that I have been treated more like a 
beast of prey than a human being. If I had been permitted to 
examine witnesses, I would have shown them how the case had 
been got up by the Crown. I would have shown them how the 
Crown Solicitor, the gaolers, the head gaoler, and the deputy gaolers 
of Kilmainham, and the Protestant chaplain of that institution, bad 
gone in, day and night, to all the witnesses — to the cells of the 
prisoners — with a bribe in one hand and a halter in the other. I 
would have shown how political cases were got up by the Crown 
in Ireland. I would have shown how there existed, under the 
authority of the Castle, a triumvirate of the basest wretches that 
ever conspired to take away the lives and liberties of men. One 
of these represented the law, another the gibbet in front of the gaol, 
and another was supposed to represent the Church militant. 

Here the Chief Baron interposed j but the prisoner soon 
after reverted to the subject, and said that every opportu- 
nity was taken in that gaol to wrong and torture the men 
incarcerated there on political charges. Every petty 
breach of discipline was availed of to punish them, by 
sending them down to work the crank, and reducing their 
scanty rations. For the crime of not saluting Mr. Governor 
Price, they were placed upon a dietary of seven ounces of 



84 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

what was called brown bread and a pint of Anna Liffey, 
in the twenty-four hours. Brown, indeed, the article was, 
but whether it deserved the name of bread, was quite 
another question. The turf -mould taken from the Bog 
of Allen was the nearest resemblance to it that he could 
think of. For his own part, he did not mean to complain 
of his rations — he could take either rough or smooth as 
well as most men — but what he would complain of was 
the system of petty insults and indignities offered by Mr. 
Price and his warders to men of finer feelings than their 
own, and whom they knew to be their superiors. He 
concluded his address in the following terms : — 

I ask you if I have not thoroughly and sufficiently explained 
away the terror, if I may use the term, of these papers, which were 
taken from walls and other places, to be brought against me here? 
I ask yon, gentlemen, as reasonable men, if there be a shadow of a 
case against me ? I ask you if I have been connected by an un- 
tainted witness with any act, in America or Ireland, that would 
warrant you in deciding that I was guilty of the charge of which 
I stand accused? Is there one single overt act proved against me ; 
or have I violated any law, for the violation of which I can be made 
amenable in this court? I ask you if, in these letters which have 
been brought up against me — one found in Thomas-street, another in 
the pocket of a fellow-prisoner — there is anything that can affect 
me? Recollect, gentlemen of the jury, that I speak to you now as 
men imbued with a spirit of justice. I speak to you, gentlemen, 
believing that you are honest, recognizing your intelligence, and 
confident that you will give a verdict in accordance with the 
dictates of your conscience. If you are the jury that the Attorney- 
General hopes you are, gentlemen of the jury, I am wasting time 
in speaking to you. If you are, gentlemen, that jury which the 
Attorney -General hopes to make the stepping-stone to the bench— 
for, gentlemen, I do not accuse the Attorney- General of wishing to 
prosecute me for the purpose of having me punished; I believe he 
is above any paltry consideration of that sort — but, gentlemen, all 
men are influenced by one motive or another, and the Attorney- 
General, though he is the first law officer of the Crown in Ireland, 
is human like ourselves; he is not above human frailty, but, like 
other men, doubtless likes office, and likes the emoluments which 
office brings. But, gentlemen of the jury, it will be your fault if 
you make your shoulders the stepping-stone for the Attorney-General 
to spring upon the bench. I say these words to you in sober, solemn 
earnestness. You are now trying a man who has lived all his life- 
time in a country where freedom is venerated and adored. You 
may believe, gentlemen, that you have the speech of freedom here; 
but I claim, gentlemen, that the real spirit of freedom has lied 






THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 85 



these shores manv a century ago — has sped across the Atlantic, and 
perched upon American soil — and, gentlemen, it ought to be your 
wish and desire — as I am sure it is, for I am unwilling to believe 
that you are the men the Attorney-General deems you to be — to do 
me justice, and prove that Dublin juries do not on all occasions 
bring in a verdict at the dictation of the Crown. Gentlemen, the 
principle of freedom is at stake. Every man that is born into this 
world has a right to freedom, unless he forfeits that right by his 
own misdemeanor. Perhaps you have read the Declaration of Ame- 
rican Independence. In that declaration, drawn up by one Thomas 
Jefferson, it is stated that every man born into this world is born 
free and equal ; that he has the right — the inalienable right — to live 
in liberty and the pursuit of happiness. These are the cardinal 
principles of liberty. I claim these rights, unless I have forfeited 
them by my own misconduct. I claim there is not one particle, 
one scintilla, of evidence to warrant you in finding a verdict for 
the Crown. I have not conspired with General Roberts or any of 
these other generals. There is no evidence to show you anything 
about any such conspiracy, as far as I am concerned. With these 
facts before you, I ask you, as reasonable men, is there one particle 
of evidence to show that I am guilty of the charges preferred against 
me? I shall simply conclude by repeating the w r ords with which 
I commenced, that I leave it between your conscience and your 
God to find a verdict according to the evidence and the truth. I 
leave it to you in the name of that sacred justice which we all 
profess to venerate, and I ask you not to allow your passions or 
your prejudices to cloud your judgment ; not to allow the country 
to say that the Dublin juries are in the breeches-pocket of the 
Attorney- General. Never let it be said that a prisoner, forced into 
your country, carried off from the steamer which was bearing him. 
away from yours to his own, has been found guilty on the evidence 
of perjured witnesses. Never let the world say that a Dublin jury 
are not as honest as any other. Do not allow those acrimonious 
feelings which, unfortunately, in this country difference of sect 
engenders, to have anything to do with your verdict. As far as I 
am concerned, I ask no favor from you. I ask no favor from any 
man that lives in the world. I have always, gentlemen, adhered to 
my own principles, and will do so while I am able. If you consent, 
to send me for my life to a penitentiary, you will not make the 
slightest impression on me. I am pleading for life and liberty— I 
am pleading in the cause of justice, audi leave it in your hands. 
I demand that you should exercise your best judgment to render a 
verdict before the Omnipotent Creator of the universe, who is looking 
into your hearts as well as mine ; to render a verdict fur which you 
will not be sorry ; to render a verdict that your countrymen will 
cheer ; to render a verdict that will make you venerated and 
admired in the land of your birth while you live on this earth. 

The jury, however ; found not for the prisoner, but for 
the Crown. 



86 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

When General Halpin took his place in the dock with 
his fellow " convicts," Colonel Warren and Augustine E. 
Costello, to receive his sentence, he appeared calm and 
unimpassioned as ever. The question why sentence should 
not be passed on him having been put — 

The prisoner said that, before he spoke to the question put him by 
the Clerk of the Crown, he wished to say a few words on another 
topic. The day before yesterday he was handed by the Governor of 
Kihnainham a letter which had come from America, and enclosed a 
draft. The draft the Governor refused to give up, and also refused 
to state what disposition he intended to make of it. The Deputy 
Governor had other moneys of his, and he requested that those, as 
well as the draft, should be restored to him. 

The Attorney-General, in an undertone, having addressed some 
observations to the bench, 

The Lord Chief Baron said that the prisoner, having been con- 
victed of felony, his property was at the disposal of the authorities, 
and that any representation he had to make ou the subject should 
be made to the government. 

Halpin said that he wished that the money might be transferred 
to the governor of whatever jail he was to be imprisoned in, so that 
he might have the use of it to purchase necessaries should he 
require them. 

Lord Chief Baron: — If you desire to make any representation, 
it must be through the government. 

Prisoner: — I don't wish to make any representation to the 
government on the subject. I will permit the government to add 
robbery to perjury. 

The prisoner, in reply to the question asked by the 
Clerk of the Crown, said that justice had not been dealt 
out to him as he thought it mishit have been. He had 
been prevented by the Crown from getting witnesses for 
his defence, and from seeing his witnesses, while the 
Crown had taken four months to get their witnesses 
properly trained, and to ransack all the Orange lodges 
of Dublin for jurors. He complained of the rules of the 
jail, and of the law that permitted them to be in force, and 
said : — 

I deny the jurisdiction of this court in common with Colonel 
Warren. I owe no allegiance to this country, and, w r ere I a free 
man to-morrow, I would sooner swear allegiance to the King of 
Abyssinia than give half-an-hour's allegiance to the government of 
this country — a government that has blasted the hopes of half the 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. S7 

world and disgusted it all. I am not, I suppose, permitted to speak 
of the verdict given against me by the jury. It was entirely unnec- 
essary for the Crown to produce one single witness against me. 
The jury had their lesson before they came to the box. 

The Chief Baron: — It is impossible for me to allow you to 
proceed with this line of observation. 

Halpin:— I wish to say simply, that the jury exhibited an extreme 
anxiety to find a verdict against me before I had even said a word 
to them. I saw their anxiety. I knew, from the moment they were 
put into the box, that a verdict of guilty would be returned against 
me. I knew it from looking at the conduct of the jury in the box ; 
I knew it from the way the jury were empanelled, and I knew the 
Attorney-General, relied upon the jury for a verdict when he set 
three citizens aside. I therefore conclude, and rightly, that all the 
eloquent talent that ever pleaded at this bar would be entirely 
useless to me whilst such a jury were in the box. The Crown, in 
order to give some color to the proceedings, thought proper to 
produce several witnesses agains* me. Eleven witnesses were 
examined, and out of these no less than nine committed absolute, 
diabolical, and egregious perjury. 

The Chief Baron: — You are transcending the limit within which 
the law confines you. 

Halpin: — I do not blame you for enforcing the law as it stands. 
By no means. I have to thank your lordship for your kindness 
during the progress of my trial. I do not blame you because the 
law stands as it does; but what I say is that the law is absurd in 
taking me and trying me as a British subject whilst I am a citizen 
of the United States, without a particle of evidence to show that I 
was born under the jurisdiction of the British Crown. I must say 
that I look to another place, another government, and another people, 
to see that justice shall be done me. 

The Chief Baron: — Here again you are transcending the limits 
which the law allows. "We could not deal with any considerations 
connected with what any government will do. 

Halpin: — I am aware that it is not within your province to deal 
with the acts of another government, but I may be permitted to say 
this — that the outrages offered me and those gentlemen who claim, 
like me, to be citizens of the United States, will be gladly submitted 
to. if they only have the effect of making the sword of Brother 
Jonathan spring from its scabbard. 

The Chief Baron: — I cannot suffer you to proceed with this line 
of observation. I cannot suffer you to make this a place of appeal to 
persons in this country or in America. 

Halpin: — I am not making any appeal to any man. Although I 
was found guilty by a jury of this court, I deem my conduct above 
reproach. I know how I have been convicted, and will still assert 
that the first gun fired in anger between this country and America 
will be a knell of comfort to my ears. 

The Chief Baron: — I will be compelled to remove you from 
where you are now, if you proceed with this line of observation. 



S8 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

Halpin: — Well, then, if I am not permitted to say that 

Chief Baron : — You are not permitted to make any observation 
upon what any government of any country may do. 

Halpin: — I think the reference has not anything to do with any 
government or any country. It refers to a fact that will come to pass ; 
and when I shall hear the death-knell of this infamous govern- 
ment 

The Chief Baron: — I will not allow you to proceed. 

Halpin: — Well, I cannot be prevented thinking it. Now, I will 
refer to a subject which I may be allowed to speak upon. You will 
recollect that I had addressed a letter to Mr. Price, asking him to 
furnish me, at my own expense, with two of the morning papers — 
the Irish Times and Freeman's Journal. I believe they are both 
loyal papers ; at least they claim to be loyal, and I have no doubt 
they are of the admitted character of loyalty registered in the 
purlieus of Dublin Castle. The reason why I wanted these 
papers was, that I believed that the best reports of the trials since 
the opening of the Commission would be found in them. I said to 
Mr. Price that it was important that I should see all the evidence 
given by the informers who were to be produced against me, to 
enable me to make up my defence. I was denied, even at my 
own expense, to be furnished with these papers : and that I com- 
plain of as a wanton outrage. Perhaps Mr. Price was governed 
by some rule of Kilmainham, for it appears that the rules of Kil- 
mainham are often as far outside the law of the country as I have 
been said to be by the Attorney-General. In fact, Mr. Price 
stated, when giving his testimony, that he was not governed by 
any law or rule, but that he was governed solely and entirely by 
his own imperial will. 

Chief Baron: — That I cannot allow to be said without at once 
setting it right. Mr. Price said no such thing. He said that, with 
respect to one particular matter, namely, the reading of prisoners' 
correspondence, he was bound to exercise his own discretion as to 
what he would send out of the jail, and what he would hold. This 
is the only matter in which Mr. Price said he would exercise his own 
discretion. 

Prisoner: — I think, my lord, you will allow your memory to go 
back to the cross-examination of Mr. Price, and you will find that, 
when I asked him by what authority he gave the letters he sup- 
pressed into the hands of the Crown to be produced here, he stated 
he had no other authority than his own will for so doing. 

Chief Baron: — You are quite right with respect to the corre- 
spondence. 

Prisoner : — I say he violated the law of the land in so doing, 
and I claim that he had no right to use those letters written 
by me in my private capacity to friends in America, asking for 
advice and assistance, and the very first letter that he read was 
a letter written to a man named Byrne. That, you may recollect, 
was put into the hands of the Attorney-General — kept by him for 
four months. That was the first intimation I had of its suppression 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 89 



or of its production here by the Crown. Now, the letter was ad- 
dressed to a friend in New York, asking him to look after my trunk, 
which had been taken away without my consent by the captain of 
the vessel in which I was arrested. Mr. Price never told me he 
suppressed that letter, and I was three months waiting for a reply, 
which, of course, I did not receive, as the letter never went. Mr, 
Price suppressed another letter yesterday. It was written to a friend 
of mine in Washington, in relation to my trial and conviction, 
and asking him to present my case to the President of the United 
States, detailing the case as it proceeded in this court. Mr. Price 
thought proper to suppress that letter, and. I ask that he be com- 
pelled to produce it, so that, if your lordships think fit, it may be read 
in court. 

The Chief Baron: — I cannot do that I cannot have a letter of 
that character read in open court. 

Halpin:— Am I entitled to get the letter to have it destroyed, or 
is Price to have it, to do with it as he pleases? 

The Chief Baron: — I can make no order in the matter. 

Halpin: — Then Price is something like Robinson Crusoe — 
"monarch of all he surveys," monarch of Kilmainham ; and when 
I ask if he is to be controlled,, I find there is no law to govern him. 

The Chief Baron:— You have now no property in these letters, 
being a convict. 

The Prisoner: — I will very soon be told I have no property in 
myself. I claim to have been arrested on the high seas, and there 
was then no case against me, and the Crown had to wait four months 
to pick up papers aud get men from Stepaside, and arrange plans 
between Mr. Price and his warders to fill up any gap that mighty be 
wanted. I was arrested out of the habeas corpus jurisdiction, with- 
out authority, and detained four months in jail until the Crown 
could trump up a case against me. Have I not a right to complain 
that I should be consigned to a dungeon for life in consequence of a 
trumped-up case? I am satisfied that your lordships have stated 
the case as it stands, but I am not satisfied that I have been con- 
victed under any law. I have been four months in durance vile, 
and vile durance it has been. The preachers tell us that hell is a 
very bad place, and the devil a very bad boy, but he could not hold 
a candle to old Price. 

The Chief Baron:— You are trespassing very much upon a very 
large indulgence. I must adopt a more decisive course if you per- 
severe. 

Halpin (laughing) :— Well, my lord, I will say no more about the 
old gorilla. The Crown officers have laid much stress upon the fact 
that I have travelled under different names, and therefore I was 
guilty of a great crime. I have precedent for it when I read in the 
papers that some continental monarchs travel under an assumed 
name, and I hear that the Prince of Wales does so, also, when he 
thinks proper to go to the London brothels. 

At this point the Court cut short his address, and Chief 



90 THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 

Baron Pigot proceeded to pass sentence on the three 
prisoners. 

THE SENTENCES. 

After some share of preliminary remarks, the Chief 
Baron announced the sentence of the court. It was for 

John "Warren, 15 years' penal servitude. 
William Halpin, 15 years' penal servitude. 
Augustine E. Costello, 12 years' penal servitude. 

The prisoners heard the announcement without manifest- 
ing any emotion. General Halpin remarked that he would 
take fifteen years more any day for Ireland. Colonel 
Warren informed the court that he did not think a lease 
of the British Empire worth thirty-seven-and-a-half cents ; 
and then all three, followed by a posse of warders, 
disappeared from the dock. 

And thus were three men of education and ability added 
to the hundreds who are now rotting their lives away in 
British dungeons, because of the love they bore to their 
country, and their hatred of the misrule which makes her 
the most afflicted and miserable land on earth. It is hard 
for Ireland to see such men stricken down and torn from 
her upon such an accusation ; yet, looking at the noble 
bearing of that long list of devoted men when confronted 
with the worst terrors to which their enemies could subject 
them, she has something which may well cause the light 
of pride to glisten in her eyes, even while the tears of love 
and pity are falling from them. And we should say to 
her, in the noble words of a French writer, one of the many 
generous-hearted foreigners, whose affectionate admiration 
has been won by her sufferings and her constancy, the 
Rev. Adolphe Perraud, Priest of the Oratory, Paris : — 

" Take heart ! your trials will not last forever ; the 
works of iniquity are passing and perishable : l Vidi impium 
supercxaltatum et elevatum sicat cedros Libani, et ecce 
non erat ! ' (Ps. xxxvi.) Patience, then, even still ! Do not 
imagine that you are forsaken: God forsakes not those 
that believe in Him. The day of retribution will come — 



THE DOCK AND THE SCAFFOLD. 91 

to teach men that no straggle against right is rightful, that 
probation is not abandonment ; that God and conscience 
have unimagined resources against brutal spoliation and 
the triumphs of injustice; and that, if men are often 
immoral in their designs and actions, there are still, in 
the general course of history, a sovereign morality, and 
judgments, the forerunners of the infallible judgment 
of God." 



THE 



WEARING OF THE GREEN," 



OR, 



THE PROSECUTED FUNERAL PROCESSION. 



Let the echoes fall unbroken. 

Let our tears in silpnce flow ; 
For each word thus nobly spoken, 

Let us yield a nation's woe ; 
Yet, while weeping - , sternly keeping 

Wary watch upon the foe." 

Poem in the " Natioh.' 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 



TH* 
PROSECUTED FUNERAL PROCESSION. 



The news of the Manchester executions on the morn- 
ing of Saturday, 23d November, 1867, fell upon Ireland 
with sudden and dismal disillusion. 

In time to come, when the generation now living shall 
have passed away, men will probably find it difficult 
to fully realize or understand the state of stupor and 
amazement which ensued in this country on the first tid- 
ings of that event; seeing, as it may be said, that the 
victims had lain for weeks under sentence of death, to 
be executed on this date. Yet surprise indubitably was 
the first and most overpowering emotion ; for, in truth, no 
one up to that hour had really credited that England 
would take the lives of those three men on a verdict 
already publicly admitted and proclaimed to have been a 
blunder. Now, however, came the news that all was 
over — that the deed was done — and soon there was seen 
such an upheaving of national emotion as had not been 
witnessed in Ireland for a century. The public con- 
science, utterly shocked, revolted against the dreadful 
act perpetrated in the outraged name of justice. A great 
billow of grief rose and surged from end to end of the 
land. Political distinctions disappeared or were forgotten. 
The Manchester victims — the Manchester Martyrs, they 
were already called — belonged to the Fenian organiza- 
tion, a conspiracy which the wisest and truest patriots 
of Ireland had condemned and resisted j yet, the men who 
had been prominent in withstanding, on national grounds, 
that hopeless and disastrous scheme — priests and laymen 
— were now amongst the foremost and the boldest in 
denouncing at every peril the savage act of vengeance 



4 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

perpetrated at Manchester. The Catholic clergy were the 
first to give articulate expression to the national emotion. 
The executions took place on Saturday. Before night 
the telegraph had spread the news through the island ; 
and on the next morning, Sunday, from a thousand altars 
the sad event was announced to the assembled worship- 
pers, and prayers were publicly offered for the souls of the 
the victims. When the news was announced, a moan of 
sorrowful surprise burst from the congregation, followed 
by the wailing and sobbing of women 5 and, when the 
priest, his own voice broken with emotion, asked all to join 
with him in praying the merciful God to grant those young 
victims a place beside His throne, the assemblage with 
one voice responded, praying and weeping aloud ! 

The manner in which the national feeling was de- 
monstrated on this occasion was one peculiarly charac- 
teristic of a nation in which the sentiments of religion 
and patriotism are so closely blended. No stormy "in- 
dignation meetings'' were held j no tumult, no violence, 
no cries for vengeance arose. In all probability — nay, 
to a certainty — all this would have happened, and these 
ebullitions of popular passion would have been heard, 
had the victims not passed into eternity. But now, they 
were gone where prayer alone could follow ; and, in the 
presence of this solemn fact, the religious sentiment over- 
bore all others with the Irish people. Cries of anger, 
imprecations, and threats of vengeance, could not avail the 
dead j but happily religion gave a vent to the pent-up 
feelings of the living. By prayer and mourning they 
could, at once, most fitly and most successfully demon- 
strate their horror of the guilty deed, and their sympathy 
with ttib innocent victims. 

Requiem Masses forthwith were announced and cele- 
brated in several churches, and were attended by crowds 
everywhere too vast for the sacred edifices to contain. The 
churches in several instances were draped with black, and 
the ceremonies conducted with more than ordinary 
solemnity. In every case, however, the authorities of the 
Catholic church were careful to insure that the sacred 
functions were sought and attended for spiritual considera- 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 5 

tions, not used merely for illegitimate political purposes ; 
and wherever it was apprehended that the holy rites were 
in danger of such use, the masses were said privately. 

And soon public feeling found yet another vent — a 
mode of manifesting itself scarcely less edifying than the 
Requiem Masses, namely, funeral processions. The 
brutal vengeance of the law consigned the bodies of 
Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien to dishonored graves, and 
forbade the presence of sympathizing friend or sorrowing 
relative who might drop a tear above their mutilated 
remains. Their countrymen now, however, determined 
that ample atonement should be made to the memory of 
the dead for this denial of the decencies of sepulture. 
On Sunday, 1st December, in Cork, Manchester, Mitchels- 
town, Middleton, Limerick, and Skibbereen, funeral pro- 
cessions, at which thousands of persons attended, were 
held 5 that in Cork being admittedly the most imposing, 
not only in point of numbers, but in the character of the 
demonstration and the demeanor of the people. 

For more than twenty years Cork city has held an ad- 
vanced position in the Irish national struggle. In truth, 
it has been one of the great strongholds of the national 
cause since 1848. Nowhere else did the national spirit 
keep its hold so tenaciously and so extensively amidst the 
people. In 1848, Cork city contained probably the most 
formidable organization in the country; formidable, not 
merely in numbers, but in the superior intelligence, earnest- 
ness, and determination of the men j and even in the Fe- 
nian conspiracy, it is unquestionable that the southern 
capital contributed to that movement men — chiefly belong- 
ing to the mercantile and commercial classes — who, in 
personal worth and standing, as well as in courage, intel- 
ligence, and patriotism, were the flower of the organization. 
Finally, it must be said that it was Cork city, by its 
funeral demonstration of the 1st December, that struck 
the first great blow at the Manchester verdict, and set all 
Ireland in motion.* 

* It may be truly said, set the Irish race all over the world in 
motion. There is probably no parallel in history for the singular 
circumstances of these funeral processions being held by the 



6 THE WEARING OE THE GREEN. 

Meanwhile the Irish capital had moved, and was organiz- 
ing a demonstration destined to surpass all that had yet 
been witnessed. Early in the second week of December, 
a committee was formed for the purpose of organizing a 
funeral procession in Dublin, worthy of the national 
metropolis. Dublin would have come forward sooner, but 
the question of the legality of the processions that were 
announced to come off the previous week in Cork and 
other places, had been the subject of fierce discussion in 
the government press j and the national leaders were 
determined to avoid the slightest infringement of the law, 
or the least inroad on the public peace. It was only when, 
on the 3d of December, Lord Derby, the Prime Minister, 
replying in the House of Lords to Lord Dufferin, declared 
the opinion of the Crown that the projected processions 
were not illegal, that the national party in Dublin decided 
to form a committee and organize a procession. The 
following were Lord Derby's words: — 

"He could assure the noble lord that the government would 
continue to carry out the law with firmness and impartiality. 
The Party Processions Act, however, did not meet the case of the 
funeral processions, the parties engaged in them having, by not dis- 
playing banners or other emblems, kept within the law as far as 
his information went." 

Still more strong assurance was contained in the reply 
of the Irish Chief Secretary, Lord Mayo, to a question put 
by Sir P. O'Brien in the House of Commons. Lord Mayo 
publicly announced and promised that, if any new opinion 
as to the legality of the procession should be arrived at — 

dispersed Irish in lands remote, apart, as pole from pole — in the old 
hemisphere and in the new — in Europe, in America, in Australia, 
prosecutions being set on foot by the English government to punish 
them at both ends of the world — in Ireland and in New Zealand! 
In Hokatika the Irish settlers — most patriotic of Ireland's exiles — 
organized a highly impressive funeral demonstration. The govern 
ment seized and prosecuted its leaders, the Rev. Father Larkin, a 
Catholic clergyman, and Mr. Wm. Manning, editor of the Hokatika 
Celt. A jury, terrified by Fenian panic, brought them in " guilty," 
and the patriot priest and journalist were consigned to a dungeon 
for the crime of mourning for the dead and protesting against judicial 
murder. 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 7 

that is, should the Crown see in them anything of illegality 
— due and timely notice would be given by proclamation, so 
that no one mi^ht offend through ignorance. Here are 
his words : — 

"It is the wish of the government to act strictly in accordance 
with the law ; and of course ample notice will be given either by 
proclamation or otherwise." 

The Dublin funeral committee thereupon at once issued 
the following announcement, by placard and advertise- 
ment : — 

GOD SAVE IRELAND! 

A PUBLIC FUNERAL PROCESSION 

Inhonor of the Irish Patriots 

Executed at Manchester, 23d November, 

Will take place in Dublin 

On Sunday next, the 8th inst. 



The procession will assemble in Beresford- place, near the Custom 

House, and will start from thence at the hour of twelve 

o'clock noon. 



No flags, banners, or party emblems will be allowed. 



IRISHMEN, 

Assemble in your thousands, and show, by your numbers and your 

orderly demeanor, your sympathy with the fate of the 

executed patriots. 



IRISHWOMEN. 

You are requested to lend the dignity of your presence to this 
important National Demonstration. 

By Order of the Committee. 

John Martin, Chairman. 

J. C. Waters, ) 

James Scanlan, > Hon. Secretaries. 

J. J. Lalor, ) 

Donal Sullivan, Up. Buckingham-street, 
— Treasurer. 



8 THE WEARING OF THE GEEEN. 

The appearance of the " funeral procession placards" 
all over the city on Thursday, 5th December, increased 
the public excitement. No other topic was discussed in 
any place of public resort, but the event forthcoming on 
Sunday. The first evidence of what it was about to be, 
was the appearance of the drapery establishments in the 
city on Saturday morning • the windows, exteriorly and 
interiorly, being one mass of crape and green ribbon — 
funeral knots, badges, scarfs, hatbands, neckties, etc., 
exposed for sale. Before noon most of the retail, and 
several of the wholesale houses had their entire stock of 
green ribbon and crape exhausted, it being computed that 
nearly one hundred thousand yards had been sold up to 
midnight of Saturday ! Meantime the committee sat 
en permanence, zealously pushing their arrangements for 
the orderly and successful carrying out of their great 
undertaking — appointing stewards, marshals, etc, — in a 
word, completing the numerous details on the perfection 
of which it greatly depended whether Sunday was to 
witness a successful demonstration or a scene of disastrous 
disorder. On this, as upon every occasion when a 
national demonstration was to be organized, the trades of 
Dublin, Kingstown, and Dalkey, exhibited that spirit of 
patriotism for which they have been proverbial in our 
generation. From their ranks came the most efficient 
aids in every department of the preparations. On Satur- 
day evening the carpenters, in a body, immediately after 
their day's work was over, instead of seeking home and 
rest, refreshment or recreation, after their week of toil, 
turned into the Nation office machine rooms, which they 
quickly improvised into a vast workshop, and there, as 
volunteers, labored away till near midnight, manufacturing 
" wands" for the stewards of next morning's procession. 

Sunday, 8th December, 1867, dawned through watery 
skies. From shortly after daybreak, rain, or rather half- 
melted sleet, continued to fall ; and many persons con- 
cluded that there would be no attempt to hold the pro- 
cession under such inclement weather. This circum- 
stance was, no doubt, a grievous discouragement, or 
rather a discomfort and an inconvenience ; but, so far 



THE "WEARING OF THE GREEN". 9 

from preventing" the procession, it was destined to add a 
hundred-fold to the significance and importance of the 
demonstration. Had the day been fine, tens of thousands 
of persons, who eventually only lined the streets, wearing 
the funeral emblems, would have marched in the proces- 
sion, as they had originally intended j but hostile critics 
would in this case have said that the fineness of the day 
and the excitement of the pageant had merely caused a 
hundred thousand persons to come out for a holiday. 
Now, however, the depth, reality, and intensity of the 
popular feeling was about to be keenly tested. The sub- 
joined account of this memorable demonstration is sum- 
marized from the Dublin daily papers of the next ensuing 
publication, the report of the Freeman's Journal being 
chiefly used : — 

As early as ten o'clock crowds began to gather in Beresford- 
place, and in an hour about ten thousand men were present. The 
morning bad succeeded to the hopeless humidity of the night, and 
the drizzling rain fell with almost pitiless persistence. The 
early trains from Kingstown and Dalkey, and all the citerior town- 
lands, brought large numbers into Dublin; and Westland-row, 
Brunswick, D'Olier, and Sackville-streets, streamed with masses of 
humanity. A great number of the processionists met in Earlsfort- 
terrace, all round the Exhibition, and at twelve o'clock some 
thousands had collected. It was not easy to learn the object of 
this gathering; it may have been a mistake, and most probably it 
was, as they fell in with the great body in the course of half an 
hour. The space from the quays, including the great sweep in 
front of the Custom-house, was swarming with men, and women, 
and small children, and the big, ungainly crowd bulged out in Gar- 
diner-street, and the broad space leading up Talbot-street. Th« 
ranks began to be formed at eleven o'clock amid a down- pour of 
cold rain. The mud was deep and aqueous, and great pools ran 
through the streets almost level with the paths. Some of the more 
prominent of the men and several of the committee rode about 
directing and organizing the crowd, which presented a most ex- 
traordinary appearance. A couple of thousand young children 
stood quietly in the rain and slush for over an hour; while behind 
them, in close- packed numbers, were over two thousand young 
women. Not the least blame can be attached to those who managed 
the affairs of the day, inasmuch as the throng must have far exceeded 
even their most sanguine expectations. Every moment some over- 
whelming accession rolled down Abbey-street or Eden-quay, and 
swelled the already surging multitude waiting for the start. Long 
betore twelve o'clock, the streets, converging on the square, were 



10 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 



Sacked with spectators or intending processionists. Cabs struggled 
opelessly to yield up the large number of highly respectable and 
well-attired ladies who had come to walk. Those who had hired 
vehicles for the day to join the procession were convinced of the 
impracticable character of their intention; and many delicate old 
men who would not give up the design, braved the terrors of 
asthma and bronchitis, and joined the rain-defying throng. Right 
across the spacious ground was one unmoving mass, constantly 
being enlarged by ever-coming crowds. All the windows in Beres- 
ford-place were filled with spectators, and the rain and cold seemed 
to have no saddening effect on the numerous multitude. The 
various bands of the trade were being disposed in their respective 
positions, and the hearses were a long way off and altogether in the 
background, when, at a quarter to twelve, the first rank of men 
moved forward. Almost every one bad an umbrella, but they were 
thoroughly saturated with the never-ceasing down-pour. As the 
steady, well-kept, twelve-deep ranks moved slowly out, some ease 
was given to those pent up behind ; and it was really wonderful to 
see the facility with which the people adapted themselves to the 
orders of their directors. Every chance of falling in was seized, 
and soon the procession was in motion. The first five hundred men 
were of the artisan class. They were dressed very respectably, and 
each man wore upon his left shoulder a green rosette, and on his 
left arm a band of crape. Numbers had hatbands depending to 
the shoulder; others had close crape intertwined carefully with 
green ribbon around their hats ; and the great majority of the better 
sort adhered to this plan, which was executed with a skill unmistak- 
ably feminine. Here and there a man appeared with a broad, green 
scarf around his shoulders, some embroidered with shamrocks, and 
others decorated with harps. There was not a man throughout the 
procession but was conspicuous by some emblem of nationality. 
Appointed officers walked at the sides with wands in their hands, 
and gently kept back the curious and interested crowd whose 
sympathy was certainly demonstrative. Behind the five hundred 
men came a couple of thousand of young children. These excited, 
perhaps, the most considerable interest amongst the bystanders, 
whether sympathetic, neutral, or opposite. Of tender age and 
innocent of opinions on any subject, they were being marshalled 
by their parents in a demonstration which will probably give a tone 
to their career hereafter; and seeds in the juvenile mind ever bear 
fruit in due season. The pi*esence of these shivering little ones 
gave a serious significance to the procession — they were hostages 
to the party who had organized the demonstration. Earnestness 
must, indeed, have been strong in the mind of the parent 
who directed his little son or daughter to walk in saturating 
rain and painful cold through five or six miles of mud and water, 
and all this merely to say, "I and my children were there." It 
portends something more than sentiment. It is national educa- 
tion with a vengeance. Comment on this remarkable constituent 
was very freguent throughout the day, and when, towards evening, 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 11 

this ban/1 of boys sang out with lusty unanimity a popular Yankee 
air, spectators were satisfied of their culture and training. After 
the children came about one hundred young women who had been 
unable to gain their proper position, and accepted the place which 
chance assigned them. They were succeeded by a band dressed 
very respectably, with crape and green ribbons round their caps. 
These were followed by a number of rather elderly men, probably 
the parents of the children far ahead. At this portion of the pro- 
cession, a mile from the point, they marched four deep, there hav- 
ing been a gradual decline from the front. Next came the brick- 
layers' band all dressed in green caps, a very superior-looking body 
of men. Then followed a very imposing well-kept line, composed 
of young men of the better class, well attired and respectable-look- 
ing. These wore crape hatbands, and green rosettes with harps in 
the centre. Several had broad, green body-scarfs, with gold-tinsel 
shamrocks and harps interwiued. As this portion of the procession 
marched, they attracted very considerable attention by their orderly, 
measured tread, and the almost soldierly precision Avith which they 
maintained the line. They numbered about four or five thousand, 
and there were few who were not young, sinewy, stalwart fellows. 
When they had reached the further end of Abbey-street, the ground 
about Beresford-place was gradually becoming clear, and the spec- 
tator had some opportunity afforded of glancing more closely at the 
component parts of the great crowd. All round the Custom-house 
was still packed a dense throng, and large streams were flowing 
from the northern districts, Clontarf, the strand, and the quays. 
The shipping was gaily decorated, and many of the masts were 
filled with young tars, wearing green bands on their hats. At half- 
past twelve o'clock, the most interesting portion of the procession 
left the Custom-house. About two thousand young women, who, 
in attire, demeanor, and general appearance, certainly justified 
their title to be called ladies, walked in six-deep ranks. The general 
public kept pace with them for a great distance. The green 
was most demonstrative ; every lady having shawl, bonnet, veil, 
dress, or mantle of the national hue. The mud made sad havoc of 
their attire, but, notwithstanding all mishaps, they maintained good 
order and regularity. They stretched for over half a mile, and 
added very notably to the imposing appearance of the procession. 
So great was the pressure in Abbey-street, that, for a veiy long time, 
there were no less than three processions walking side by side. 
These halted at the end of the street, and followed as they were 
afforded opportunity. One of the bands was about to play near 
the Abbey-street Wesleyan House, but, when a policeman told them 
of the proximity of the place of worship, they immediately de- 
sisted. The first was a very long way back in the line, and the 
foremost men must have been near the Ormond-quays, when the 
four horses moved into Abbey-street. They were draped with black 
cloths, and white plumes were at their heads. The hearse also had 
white plumes, and was covered with black palls. On the side was 
" William P. Allen." A number of men followed, and then came 



12 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

a band. In the earlier portion of the day there were seen but two 
hearses, the second one bearing Larkin's name. It was succeeded 
by four mourning coaches, drawn by two horses each. A large 
number of young men from the monster houses followed in admi- 
rable order. In tbis throng were very many men of business, large 
employers, and members of the professions. Several of the trades 
were in great force. It had been arranged to have the trade banners 
carried in front of the artisans of every calling, but, at the suggestion 
of the chairman, this design was abandoned. The men walked, 
however, in considerable strength. They marched from their various 
committee-rooms to the Custom-house. The quay porters were 
present to the number of 500, and presented a very orderly, cleanly 
appearance. They were comfortably dressed, and walked close 
after the hearse bearing Larkin's name. Around this bier were 
a number of men bearing in their hands long and waving 
palms — emblems of martyrdom. The trades came next, and 
were led off by the various branches of the association known 
as the Amalgamated Trades. The plasterers made about, 300, 
the painters 350, the boot and shoemakers mustered 1,000, the 
bricklayers 500, the carpenters 300, the slaters 450, the sawyers 
200, and the skinners, coopers, tailors, bakers, and the other 
trades, made a very respectable show, both as to numbers and 
appearance. Each of these had representatives in the front of the 
procession, amongst the fine body of men who marched eight deep. 
The whole ground near the starting-place was clear at half-past one, 
and by that time the demonstration was seen to a greater advantage 
than previously. All down Abbey-street, and, in fact, throughout 
the procession, the pathways were crowded by persons who were 
practically of it, though not in it. Very many young girls, 
naturally enough, preferred to stand on the pathways than to be 
saturated with mud and water. But it may be truly said that 
every second man and woman of the crowds in almost every street 
were of the procession. Cabs filled with ladies and gentlemen re- 
mained at the waysides all day watching the march. The horses' 
heads were gaily decorated with green ribbons, while every Jehu 
in the city wore a rosette or a crape band. Nothing of special note 
occurred until the procession turned into Dame-street. The ap- 
pearance of the demonstration was here far greater than at any 
other portion of the city. Both sides of the street, and as far as 
Carlisle-bridge, were lined with cabs and carriages filled with spec- 
tators, who were prevented by the bitter inclemency of the day from 
taking an active part in the proceedings. The procession was here 
grandly imposing, and after Larkin's hearse were no less than nine 
carriages, and several cabs. It is stated that Mrs. Luby and Miss 
Mulcahy occupied one of the vehicles, and relatives of others, now 
in confinement, were alleged to have been present. One circum- 
stance, which was generally remarked as having great significance, 
was the presence in one line of ten soldiers of the 86th regiment. 
They were dressed in their great overcoats, which they wore open 
6o as to show the scarlet tunic. These men may have been on leave, 



IHE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 13 

inasmuch as the great military force were confined to barracks^and 
kept under arms from six o'clock A.M. The cavalry were in readi- 
ness for action, if necessary. Mounted military and police order- 
lies were stationed at various points of the city, to convey any re- 
quisite intelligence to the authorities ; and the constabulary at the 
depot, Phoenix Park, were also prepared, if their services should 
be required. At the police stations throughout the city, large 
numbers of men were kept all day under arms. It is pleasant to 
state that no interference was necessary, as the great demonstration 
terminated without the slightest disturbance. The public houses 
generally remained closed until five o'clock, and the sobriety of the 
crowds was the subject of general comment. 

From an early hour in the morning every possible position along 
the quays, that afforded a good view of the procession, was taken 
advantage of; and, despite the inclemency of the weather, the 
parapets of the various bridges, commencing at Capel-street, were 
crowded with adventurous youths, who seemed to think nothing of 
the risks they ran in comparison with the opportunities they had 
of seeing the great sight in all its splendor. From eleven until 
twelve o'clock the greatest efforts were made to secure good places. 
The side-walks were crowded and impassable. The lower windows 
of the houses were made the most of by men who clutched the 
shutters and bars, whilst the upper windows were, as a general rule, 
filled with the fair sex ; and it is almost unnecessary to add that 
almost every man, woman, and child displayed some emblem 
suitable to the occasion. Indeed, the originality of the designs was 
a striking feature. The women wore green ribbons and veils, and 
many, entire dresses of the favorite color. The numerous windows 
of the Four Courts accommodated hundreds of ladies, and we may 
mention that within the building were two pieces of artillery, a 
plentiful supply of rockets, and a number of policemen. It was 
arranged that the rockets should be fired from the roof in case 
military assistance was required. Contrary to the general expecta- 
tion, the head of the procession appeared at Essex-bridge shortly 
before twelve o'clock. As it was expected to leave Beresford-place 
about that time, and as such gigantic arrangements are seldom 
carried out punctually, the thousands of people who congregated in 
this locality were pleasantly disappointed when a society band 
turned the corner of Mary-street and came towards the quays, with 
the processionists marching in slow and regular time. The order 
that prevailed was almost marvellous — not a sound was heard but 
the mournful strains of the music, and the prevalent feeling was 
expressed, no doubt, by one or two of the processionists, who said 
in answer to an inquiry, " We will be our own police to day." They 
certainly were their own police, for those who carried white wands 
did not spare themselves in their endeavors to maintain order in 
the ranks. As we have mentioned already, the first part of the 
procession reached Capel-street shortly before twelve o'clock, and 
some idea of the extent of the demonstration may be formed from 
the fact that the hearses did not come in view until a quarter-past 



14 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 



one o'clock. They appeared at intervals of a quarter of an hoar, 
and were received by a general cry of " hush." The number of 
fine, well-dressed young women in the procession here was the sub- 
ject of general remark, whilst the assemblage of boys astonished 
all who witnessed it on account of its extent. The variety of the 
tokens of mourning, too, was remarkable. Numbers of the women 
carried laurel branches in addition to green ribbons and veils, and 
many of the men wore shamrocks in their hats. The procession 
passed along the quays as far as Kiug's-bridge, and it there crossed 
and passed up Stevens'-lane. The windows of all the houses en 
route were crowded chiefly with women, and the railings at the 
Esplanade and at King's-bridge were crowded with spectators. 

About one o'clock the head of the procession, which had been 
compressed into a dense mass in Stephens'-lane, burst like confined 
water when relieved of restraint, on entering James's-street, where 
every window and doorstep was crowded Along the line of footway, 
extending at either side from the old fountain up to James's-oate, 
was literally tented over with umbrellas of every hue and shade, held 
up as protection against the cold rain that fell in drizzling showers 
and made the street-way on which the vast numbers stood, ankle- 
deep in the slushy mud. The music of the " Dead March in 
Saul," heard in the distance, caused the people to break from the 
lines in which they had partially stood awaiting the arrival of ttie 
procession, which now, for the first time, began to assume its fall 
proportions. As it moved along the quays at the north side of the 
river, every street, bridge, and laneway served to obstruct to a con- 
siderable extent its progress and its order, owing to interruption 
from carriage traffic and from the ciowds that poured into it and 
swelled it in its onward course. In the vast multitude that lined 
this great western artery of the city, the greatest order and pro- 
priety were observed, and all seemed to be impressed with the one 
solemn and all-pervading idea that they were assembled to express 
their deep sympathy with the fate of three men who, they believed, 
had been condemned and had suffered death unjustly. Even 
amongst the young there was not to be recognized the slightest 
approach to levity, and the old characteristics of a great Irish 
gathering were not to be perceived anywhere. The wrong, whether 
real or imaginary, done to Allen, O'Brieu, and Larkin, made their 
memory sacred with the thousands that stood for hours in .the 
December cold and wet of yesterday, to testify by their presence 
their feelings and their sympathies. The horsemen, wearing green 
rosettes, trimmed with crape, who rode in advance of the procession, 
kept back the crowds at either side that encroached on the space in 
the centre of the street required for the vast coming mass to move 
through. On it came, the advance with measured tread, to the 
music of the band in front, and, notwithstanding the mire which 
had to be waded through, the line went on at quick pace, and with 
admirable order, but there was no effort at anything like semi 
military swagger or pompous demonstration. Every window along 
the route of the procession was fully occupied by male and female 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 15 

spectators, all wearing green ribbons and crape, and in front of 
several of tbe houses black drapery was suspended. The tide of 
men, women, and children continued to roll on in the drenching 
rain, but nearly all the fair processionists carried umbrellas. It 
was not till the head of the vast moving throng had reached 
James's-gate that any thing like a just conception could be formed 
of its magnitude, as it was only now that it was beginning to get 
into regular shape and find room to extend itself. The persons 
whose duty it was to keep the several parts of the procession well 
together had no easy part to play, as the line had to be repeatedly 
broken to permit the ordinary carriage traffic of the streets to go 
on with as little delay as possible. The cortege at this point looked 
grand and solemn in the extreme because of its vastuess, and, also, 
because of all present appearing to be impressed with the one idea. 
The gloomy, wet, and cheerless weather was quite in keeping with 
the funeral march of 35,000 people. The bands were placed at such 
proper distances that the playing of one did not iuterfere with the 
other. After passing James's-gate the band in front ceased to per- 
form, and on passing the house 151 Thomas- street every head was 
uncovered in honor of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, who was arrested 
and mortally wounded by Major Sirr and his assistants in the front 
bedroom of the second floor of that house. Such was the length of 
the procession, that an hour had elapsed from the time its head 
entered James's-street before the first hearse turned the corner of 
Stevens'-lane. In the neighborhood of St. Catherine's Church a 
vast crowd of spectators had settled down, and every available 
elevation was taken possession of. At this point a large portion of 
the streetway was broken up for the purpose of laying down water- 
pipes, and on the lifting-crane and the heaps of earth the people 
wedged and packed themselves, which showed at once that this was 
a great centre of attraction — and it was, for here was executed the 
young and enthusiastic Robert Emmet sixty-four years ago. When 
Allen, O'Brien, and Larkin were condemned to death as political 
offenders, some of the highest and the noblest in the land warned 
the government to pause before the extreme penalty pronounced on 
the condemned men would be carried into effect; but all remon- 
strance was in vain, and, on last Saturday fortnight, three compara- 
tively unknown men in their death passed into the ranks of heroes 
and martyrs, because it was believed, and believed generally, that 
their lives were sacrificed to expediency, and not to satisfy justice. 
The spot where Robert Emmet closed his young life on a bloody 
scaffold was yesterday regarded by thousands upon thousands of his 
countrymen and women as a holy place, and all looked upon his 
fate as similar to that of the three men whose memory they had 
assembled to honor, and whose death they pronounced to be unjust. 
It would be hard to give a just conception of the scene here, as the 
procession advanced and divided, as it were, into two great chan- 
nels, owing to the breaking-up of the streetway. On the advauce 
of the cortege reaching the top of Bridgefoot- street every head was 
uncovered, and nothing was to be heard but the measured tread of 



16 THE "WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

the vast mass, but, as if by some secret and uncontrollable impulse, 
a mighty, ringing, and enthusiastic cheer broke from the moving 
throng as the angle of the footway at the eastern end of St. 
Catherine's Church, where the scaffold on which Emmet was exe- 
cuted stood, was passed. In that cheer there appeared to be no 
fiction, as it evidently came straight from the hearts of thousands, 
who waved their hats and handkerchiefs, as did also the groups 
that clustered in the windows of the houses in the neighborhood. 
As the procession moved on, from every part of it the cheers rose 
again and again ; men holding up their children, and pointing out 
the place where one who loved Ireland, "not wisely but too well," 
rendered up his life. When the hearse with white plumes came 
up bearing on the side draperies the words, " William P. Allen," 
all the enthusiasm and excitement ceased, and along the lines of 
spectators prayers for the repose of the soul of the departed man 
passed from mouth to mouth, and a sense of deep sadness seemed 
to settle down on the swaying multitude as the procession rolled 
along on its way. After this hearse came large numbers of females 
walking on bravely, apparently heedless of the muddy streets and 
the unceasing rain that came down without a moment's intermis- 
sion. When the second hearse, bearing white plumes and the name 
of "Michael O'Brien" on the side pendants, came up, again all 
heads were uncovered, and prayers were recited by the people for the 
everlasting rest of the departed. Still onward rolled the mighty 
mass, young and old, and in the entire assemblage was not to be 
observed a single person under the influence of drink, or requiring 
the slightest interference on the part of the police, whose exertions 
were altogether confined to keeping the general thoroughfare clear 
of obstruction. Indeed, justly speaking, the people required no 
supervision, as they seemed to feel that they had a solemn duty to 
dischai'ge. Fathers were to be seen bearing in their arms children 
dressed in white and decorated with green ribbons, and here, as 
elsewhere, was observed unmistakable evidence of the deep sym- 
pathy of the people with the executed men. This was, perhaps, 
more strikingly illustrated as the third hearse, with sable plumes, 
came up, bearing at either side the name of " Michael Lark in ; " 
prayers for his soul's welfare were mingled with expressions of com- 
miseration for his widow and children. At the entrance to Corn- 
market, where the streetway narrows, the crushing became very 
great, but still the procession kept its onward course. On passing 
the shop of Hayburne, who, it will' be remembered, was convicted 
of being connected with the Fenian conspiracy, a large number of 
persons iu the procession uncovered and cheered. Jn the house of 
Roantree, in High-street, who was also convicted of treason-felony, 
a harp was displayed in one of the drawing-rooni windows by a lady 
dressed in deep mourning, and the procession loudly cheered as it 
passed on its route. 

Stai ding at the corner of Christchurch-place a fine view could 
be had of the procession as it approached Wiuetavern-street from 
High-street. The compact mass moved on at a regular pace, 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEK. 17 

while from the windows on either side of the streets the well- 
di'essed citizens, who preferred to witness the demonstration from 
an elevated position rather than undergo the fatigues and unpleas- 
antness of a walk through the city in such weather, eagerly watched 
the approach of the procession. Under the guidance of the horsemen 
and those whose wands showed it was their duty to marshal the 
immense throng, the procession moved at an orderly pace down 
Winetavern-street, which, spacious as it is, was in a few minutes 
absolutely filled with the vast crowds. The procession again reached 
the quays, and moved along Wood-quay and Essex-quay, and into 
Parliament-street, which it reached at twenty minutes to two 
o'clock. Passing down Parliament-street, and approaching the 
O'Connell statue, a number of persons began to cheer, but this was 
promptly suppressed by the leaders, who galloped in advance for 
some distance with a view to the preservation of the mournful 
silence that had prevailed. This was strictly enjoined, and the in- 
struction was generally observed by the processionists. The reveren- 
tial manner in which the many thousands of the people passed 
the statue of the Liberator, was very obseivable. A rather heavy 
rain was falling at the time, yet there were thousands who un- 
covered their heads as they looked up to the statue which expressed 
the noble attitude and features of O'Connell. As the pi-ocession 
moved along through Dame-street the footways became blocked up, 
and lines of cabs took up places in the middle of the carriage-way, 
and the police exercised a wise discretion in preventing vehicles 
from the surrounding streets driving in amongst the crowds. By 
this means the danger of serious accident was prevented without 
any public inconvenience being occasioned, as a line parallel to 
that which the procession was taking was kept clear for all horse 
conveyances. Owing to the hour growing late, and a considerable 
distance still to be gone over, the procession moved at a quick pace. 
In anticipation of its arrival, great crowds collected in the vicinity 
of the Bank of Ireland and Trinity College, where the cortege was 
kept well together, notwithstanding the difficulty of such a vast 
mass passing on through the heart of the city filled at this point 
with immense masses of spectators. On passing the old Parliament- 
house numbers of men in the procession took off their hats, but the 
disposition to cheer was suppressed, as it was at several other points 
along the route. Turning down Westmoreland-street, the proces- 
sion, marshalled by Dr. Waters on horseback, passed slowly along 
between the thick files of people on each side, most of whom dis- 
played the mourning and national symbols, black and green. The 
spacious thoroughfare in a few minutes was filled with the dense 
array, which in close, compact ranks pressed on, the women, youths, 
and children bearing bravely the privations of the day ; the bands, 
preceding and following the hearses playing the Dead March ; the 
solemn notes filling the air with mournful cadence. The windows 
of the houses on each side of the street were filled with groups of 
spectators of the strange and significant spectacle below. With 
the dark masses of men, broken at intervals by the groups of 



IS THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 



females and children, still stretched lengthily in the rear, the first 
section of the procession crossed Carlisle- bridge, the footways and 
parapets of which were thronged with people, nearly all of whom 
wore the usual tokens of sympathy. Passing the bridge, a glance 
to the right, down the river, revealed the fact that the ships, 
almost without exception, had their flags flying half-mast high ; 
and that the rigging of several were filled with seamen, who chose 
this elevated position to get a glimpse of the procession as it 
emerged into Sackville-street. Here the sight was imposing. A 
throng of spectators lined each side of the magnificent thorough- 
fare, and the lofty houses had their windows on each side occupied 
with spectators. Pressing onwards with measured, steady pace, re- 
gardless of the heavy rain, the cold wind, and the gloomy sky, the 
procession soon filled Sackville-street from end to end with its 
dense, dark mass, which, stretching away over Carlisle-bridge, 
seemed motionless in the distance. The procession defiled to the 
left of the site of the O'Connell monument, at the head of the 
street, and the national associations connected with this spot were 
acknowledged by the large numbers of the processionists, who, 
with uncovered heads, marched past, some expressing their feeling* 
with a subdued cheer. The foremost ranks Avere nearing Glasneviu 
when the first of the hearses entered Sackville-street, which, at 
this moment, held a numberless throng of people, processionists 
and spectators, the latter, as at all the other points of the route, ex- 
hibiting prominently the sable and green emblems, which evi- 
denced their approval of the demoi stratum. The hearses slowly 
passed along, followed by the mourning carriages, the bands playing 
alternately " Adeste Fideles" and the "Dead March," ami then fol- 
lowed the deep column of the processionists, still marching onwards 
with unflagging spirit, thousands seeming to be thoroughly soaked 
with the rain, which was falling all the morning. Sackville-street 
was perhaps the best point from which to get a correct notion of 
the enormous length of the procession, and of the great numbers 
that accompanied it on its way without actually entering the ranks. 
The base of the Nelson monument was covered with spectators, and 
at the corners of Earl-street and Henry-street there were stationary 
crowds, who chose these positions to get a good view of the great 
display as it progressed towards Cavendish-row. Through this 
comparatively narrow thorougfare the procession passed along into 
North Frederick-street and Blessington-street, and thence by Upper 
Berkeley-street to the Circular-road. Along this part of the route 
there were crowds of spectators, male and female, most of whom 
wore the crape and green ribbons, all hurrying forward to the ceme- 
tery, the last stage of the long and fatiguing journey of the proces- 
sion. As the fir^t part of the array passed the Mater Miserieordiffi 
Hospital, and came in sight of the Mountjoy Prison, they gave a 
cheer, which was caught up by tho^e behind, and, as file after file 
passed the prison, the cheers were repeated. With unbroken and 
undiminished ranks the procession pressed on towards Glasnevin ; 
but when the head had reached the cemetery, the closing section 



THE WEARING OE THE GREEN. 19 



must have been far away in the city. The first part of the pro- 
cession halted outside the gate of the cemetery, the spacious area in 
front of which was in a few moments completely filled by the dense 
masses who came up. A move then became necessary, and accord- 
ingly the procession recommenced its journey by passing through 
the open gates of the cemetery down the pathways leading to the 
M'Manus grave, followed by some of the bands piaying the " Adeste 
Fidelcs." As fast as the files passed through, others marched up, 
and, when, after some time, the carriage containing Mr. John 
Martin arrived, the open ground fronting the cemetery was one 
enormous mass of the processionists ; while behind, on the road 
leading up to this point, thousands were to be seen moving slowly 
forward to the strains of the " Dead March" given out by the bands 
immediately in front of the hearses. 



MR. MARTIN'S ADDRESS. 

On the arrival of the procession at the cemetery Mr. Martin was 
hailed with loud applause. It being understood he would make 
some observations, the multitude gathered together to hear him. 
He addressed the vast multitude from the window of a house over- 
looking the great open space in front of the cemetery. On present- 
ing himself he was received with enthusiastic cheering. When 
silence was obtained, he said : — 

"Fellow-countrymen: — Tuis is a strange kind of funeral proces- 
sion in which we are engaged to-day. We are here, a vast multi- 
tude of men, women, and children, in a very inclement season of the 
year, under rain and through mud. We are here escorting three 
empty hearses to the consecrated last resting-place of those who die 
in the Lord (cheers). The three bodies that we would tenderly 
bear to the churchyard, and would bury in consecrated ground with 
all the solemn rites of religion, are not here. They are away in a 
foreign and hostile land (hear, hear), where they have been thrown 
into unconsecrated ground, branded by the triumphant hatred of 
our enemies as the vile remains of murderers (cries of 'No mur- 
derers,' and cheers). Those three men whose memories we are here 
to-day to honor — Allen, O'Brien, and Larkin — they were not 
murderers (great cheering). (A Voice — Lord, have mercy on them.) 
These men were pious men, virtuous men — they were men who 
feared God and loved their country. They sorrowed for the 
sorrows of the dear old native land of their love (hear, hear). 
They wished, if possible, to save her, and for that love and for that 
wish they were doomed to an ignominious death at the hands of 
the British hangman (hear, hear). It was as Irish patriots that 
these men were doomed to death (cheers). And it was as patriots 
that they met their death (cheers). For these reasons, my 
countrymen, we here to-day have joined this solemn procession 
to honor their memories (cheers). For that reason we say from 
our hearts, 'May their souls rest in peace' (cries of Amen, and 



20 'ME WEARING OF THE GREEN. 



cheers). For that reason, my countrymen, we join in their last 
prayer, 'God save Ireland' (enthusiastic cheering). The death of 
these three men was an act of English policy. (Here there was 
some interruption caused by the fresh arrivals and the pushing for- 
ward.) I beg of all within reach of my voice to end this demon- 
stration as Ave have carried it through to the present time, with ad- 
mirable patience, in the best spirit, with respect, silence, and so- 
lemnity, to the end (cheers, and cries of 'We will'). 1 say the 
death of these men was a legal murder, and that legal murder was 
an act of English policy (cheers) — of the policy of that nation 
which, through jealousy and hatred of our nation, destroyed by 
fraud and force our just government sixty-seven years ago (cheers). 
They have been sixty-seven sad years of insult and robbery — of 
impoverishment — of extermination — of suffering beyond what any 
other subject people but ours have ever endured from the malignity 
of foreign masters (cheers). Neai'ly through all these years the 
Irish people continued to pray for the restoration of their Irish 
national rule. They offered their forgiveness to England. They 
offered even their friendship to England, if she would onlv give up 
her usurped power to tyrannize over us, and leave us to live in 
peace as honorable neighbors. But in vain. England felt herself 
strong enough to continue to insult and rob us, and she was too 
greedy and too insolent to cease from robbing and insulting us 
(cheers). Now it has come to pass as a consequence of that malig- 
nant policy pursued for so many long years — it has come to pass 
that the great body of the Irish people despair of obtaining peaceful, 
restitution of our national rights (cheers). And it has also come to 
pass that vast numbers of Irishmen, whom the oppression of Eng- 
lish rule forbade to live by honest industry in their own country, 
have in America learned to become soldiers (cheers). And those 
Irish soldiers seem resolved to make war against England (cheers). 
And England is in a panic of rage and fear in consequence of this 
(loud cheers). And being in a panic about Fenianism, she hopes 
10 strike terror into her Irish malcontents by a legal murder (loud 
cheers). England wanted to show that she was not afraid of Fenian- 
ism. (A Voice — ' She will be.') And she has only shown that she 
is not afraid to do injustice in the face of Heaven and of man. 
Many a wicked statute has she framed — many a jury has she packed, 
in order to dispose of her Irish political offenders ; but, in the case 
of Allen, O'Brien, and Larkin, she has committed such an outrage 
on justice and decency as to make even many Englishmen stand 
aghast. I shall not detain you with entering into details, with 
which you are all well acquainted, as to the shameful scenes of the 
handcuffing of the untried prisoners — as to the shameful scenes of 
the trial up to the last moment, when the three men, our dearly 
beloved Irish brethren, were forced to give up their innocent lives 
as a sacrifice for the cause of Ireland (loud cheers) ; and, fellow- 
countrymen, these three humble Irishmen who represented Ireland 
on that sad occasion demeaned themselves as Christians, as patriots, 
modestly, courageously, piously, nobly (loud cheers). We need 






THE WEARING OP THE GREEN. 21 

not blush for them. They bore themselves all through with a 
courage worthy of the greatest heroes that ever obtained glory upon 
earth. They behaved through all the trying scenes I referred to 
with Christian patience — with resignation to the will of God — 
(hear, hear) — with modest, yet proud and firm adherence to prin- 
ciple 'cheers). They showed their love to Ireland and their fear of 
God from the first to the last (cheers). It is vain for me to attempt 
to detain you with many words upon this matter. I will say this, 
that all who are here do not approve of the schemes for the relief 
of Ireland that these men were supposed to have contemplated ; 
but all who love Ireland, all generous, Christian men, and women, 
and children of Ireland — all the children growing up to be men and 
women of Ireland (hear, hear)— all those feel an intense sympathy, 
an intense love, for the memories of these three men whom England 
has murdered in form of law by way of striking terror into her 
Irish subjects. Fellow-countrymen, it is idle almost for me to per- 
sist in addressing weak words of mine to you — for your presence 
here to-day — your demeanor all through — the solemn conduct of 
the vast multitude assembled directly under the terrorism of a hos- 
tile government — say more than the words of the greatest orator — • 
more than the words of a Meagher could say for you (cheers). You 
have behaved yourselves all through this day with most admirable 
spirit as good Irishmen and women — as good boys and girls of holy 
Ireland ought to do (cheers), and I am sure you will behave so to 
the end (cries of, Yes, yes). This demonstration is mainly one of 
mourning for the fate of these three good Irishmen (cheers), but 
fellow-countrymen, and women, and boys, and girls, it is also one 
of protest and indignation against the conduct of our rulers (hear, 
hear, and cheers). Your attendance here to-day is a sufficient pro- 
test. Your orderly behavior — your good temper all through this 
wretched weather— your attendance here in such vast numbers for 
such a purpose — avowedly and in the face of the terrotism of the 
government, which falls most direcily upon the metropolis — that 
is enough for protest. You in your multitudes, men, women, and 
children, have to-day made that protest. Your conduct has been 
admirable for patience, for good-nature, for fine spirit, for solemn 
sense of that great duty you were resolved to do. You will return 
home with the same good order and inoffensiveness. You will join 
with me now in repeating the prayer of the three martyrs whom 
we mourn — ' God s-ave Ireland !' And all of you, men, women, and 
boys and girls that are to be men and women of holy Ireland, will 
ever keep the sentiment of that prayer in your heart of hearts/' 
Mr. Martin concluded amid enthusiastic cheering. 

At the conclusion of his address, Mr. Martin, accompanied by a 
large body of the processionists, proceeded to the cemetery, where 
Mr. Martin visited the grave of Terence Bellew M'Manus. The 
crowds walked around the grave as a mark of respect for the 
memory of M'Manus. Mr. Martin left the cemetery soon after, and 
went to his carriage ; the people gathered about him and thanked 
him, and cheered him loudly. The vast assemblage dispersed in 



22 THE WEARING OF THE GKEEN. 



the most orderly and peaceful manner, and returned to their homes. 
They had suffered much from the severity of the day, but they 
exhibited to the end the most creditable endurance and patience. 
In the course of an hour the roads were cleared, and the city soon 
resumed its wonted quiet aspect.* 

Of the number in the procession, " An Eye-witness," 
writing in the Freeman, says : — 

The procession took one hour and forty minutes to pass the Four 
Courts. Let us assume that as the average time in which it 
would pass any given point, and deduct ten minutes for delays 
during that time. If, then, it moved at the rate of two and a-half 
miles per hour, we find that its length, with those suppositions, 
would be three and three-quarter miles. From this deduct a 
quarter of a mile for breaks or discrepancies, and we find the length 
of the column, if it moved in a continuous line, to be three and a-half 
miles. We may now suppose the ranks to be three feet apart, and 
consisting of ten in each, at an average. The total number is 
therefore easily obtained by dividing the product of 3^ and b,28Q by 
3, aud multiplying the quotient by 10. This will give as a result 
61,000, which, I think, is a fair approximation to the number of 
people in the procession alone. 

Even in the columns of the Irish times a letter appeared 
giving an honest estimate of the number in the procession. 
It was signed " T. M. Gc.," and said : — 

I believe there were not fewer than 60,000 persons taking part in 
the procession on Sunday. My point of observation was one of the 
best in the city, seeing, as I could, from the entrance to the 
Lower Casrle Yard to the College Gates. I was as careful in my 
calculation as an almost, quick march would allow. There were 
also a few horsemen, three hearses, and sixty-one hired carriages, 
cabs, and cars. A correspondent in your columns this morning 
speaks of rows of from four to nine deep; I taw very many of from 
ten to sixteen deep, especially among the boys. The procession 
took exactly eighty minutes to pass this. There were several 
thousand on-lookers within my view. 

Of the ladies in the procession the Freeman's Journal 

*In consequence of some vile misstatements in the government press, which 
represented the crowd to have not only behaved recklessly, but to have done 
considerable damage to the graves, tombs, shrubs and fences in the cemetery, 
Mr. Coyle, secretary to the Cemetery Board, published in the Free man an 
official contradiction, stating- that not one sixpence worth of damage had been 
done. It is furthermore worthy of note, that, at the city police offices next 
nionrng, not one case arising out of the procession was before the magistrates, 
and the charges for drunkenness were one-fourth below the average on 
Monday! 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 23 

bore the following testimony, not more generous than 
truthful : — 

The most important physical feature was not, however, the 
respectable dress, the manly bearing, the order, discipline, and 
solemnity of the men, but the large bodies of ladies who, in rich 
and costly attire, marched the whole length of the long route, often 
ankle-deep in mud, utterly regardless of the incessant down-pour of 
rain which deluged their silks and satins, and melted the mourning 
crape till it seemed incorporated with the very substance of the 
velvet mantles or rich shawls in which so many of the fair proces- 
sionists were enveloped. In vain did well-gloved hands hold 
thousands of green parasols and umbrellas over their heads as they 
walked four and five deep through the leading thoroughfares 
yesterday. The bonnets with their "green and crape'' were alone 
defensible: velvets and Paisleys, silks and satins, met one common 
fate — thorough saturation. Yet all this and more was borne with- 
out a murmur. These ladies, and there were many hundreds of 
them, mingled with thousands in less rich attire, went out to 
cooperate with their fathers, brothers, and sweethearts in honoring 
three men who died upon the ignominious gallows, and they never 
flinched before the torrents, or swerved for an instant from the 
ranks. There must be some deep and powerful influence under- 
lying this movement that could induce thousands of matrons and 
girls of from eighteen to two-and twenty, full of the blushing 
modesty that distinguishes Irishwomen, to lay aside their retiring 
characteristics, and march to the sound of martial music through 
every thoroughfare in the metropolis of this country decked in 
green and crape. 

The Dublin correspondent of the Tipperary Free Press 
referred to the demonstration as follows : — 

Arrived in Sackville-street, we were obliged to leave our cab 
and endeavor, on foot, to force our way to our destination. This 
magnificent street was crowded to repletion, and the approaches to 
Beresford-place were ' black with people.' It was found necessary, 
owing to the overwhelming numbers that assembled, to start the 
procession before the hour named for its setting forth, and so it 
Avas commenced in wonderful order, considering the masses that 
had to be welded into shape. Marshals on foot and on horseback 
proceeded by the side of those in rank and file, and they certainly 
were successful in preserving regularity of procedure. Mourning- 
coaches and cabs followed, and after each was a procession of women, 
at least a thousand in number. Young and old were there — all 
decked in some shape or other with green ; many gr-een dresses- 
some had green feathers in their hats, but all had green ribbons 
prominently displayed. The girls bore all the disagreeability of 
the long route with wonderful endurance; it was bitterly cold —a 



24 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

sleety rain fell during the entire day, and the roads were almost 
ankle-deep in mud — yet, when they passed me on the return route, 
they were apparently as unwearied as when I saw them hours 
before. As the procession trooped by — thousand after thousand — 
there was not a drunken man to be seen — all were calm and orderly ; 
and if they were, as many of them were, soaked through — wet to 
the skin — they endured the discomfort resolutely. The numbers 
in the procession have been variously estimated, but in my opinion 
there could not have been less than 50,000. But the demonstration 
was not confined to the processionists alone; they walked through 
living walls, for along the entire route a mass of people lined the 
way, the great majority of whom wore some emblem of mourning, 
and every window of every house was thronged with ladies and 
children, nearly all of whom were decorated. All semblance of 
authority was withdrawn from sight, but every preparation had 
been made under the personal direction of Lord Strathnairn, the 
commander-in-chief, for the instant intervention of the military, 
had any disturbances taken place. The troops were confined to 
barracks since Saturday evening; they were kept in readiness to 
march at a moment's notice; the horses of the cavalry were saddled 
all day long, and those of the artillery were in harness. A battery 
of guns was in the rear yard of the Four Courts, and mounted 
orderlies were stationed at arranged points so as to convey orders 
to the different barracks as speedily as possible. But, thanks to 
Providence, all passed off quietly; the people seemed to feel the 
responsibility of their position, and accordingly not even an angry 
word was to be heard throughout the vast assemblage that for hours 
surged through the highways of the city. 

The Ulster Observer, in the course of a beautiful and 
sympathetic article, touched on the great theme as 
follows : — 

The main incidents of the singular and impressive event are 
worthy of reflection. On a cold December morning, wet and 
dreary as any morning in December might be, vast crowds 
assembled in the heart of Dublin to follow to consecrated grcund 
the empty hearses which bore the names of the Irishmen whom 
England doomed to the gallows as murderers. The air was 
piercingly chill, the rain poured down in torrents, the streets were 
almost impassable from the accumulated pools of mingled water 
and mud, yet 80,000 people braved the inclemency of the weather, 
and unfalteringly carried out the programme so fervently adopted. 
Amongst the vast multitude there were, not only stalwart n en, 
capable of facing the difficulties of the day, but old men who strug- 
gled through and defied them; and, strangest of all, " young ladies, 
clothed in silk and velvet," and women with tender children by 
their sides, all of whom continued to the last to form a part of the 
cortege, although the distance over which it passed must have taxed 
the strongest physical energy. What a unanimity of feeling, or 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 25 

rather what a naturalness of sentiment does not this wonderful 
demonstration exhibit! It seems as if the " God save Ireland" of 
the humble successors of Emmet awoke in even the breast of infancy 
the thrill which must have vibrated sternly and strongly in the 
heart of manhood. Without exalting into classical grandeur the 
simple and affectionate devotion of a simple and unsophisticated 
people, we might compare this spectacle to that which ancient Rome 
witnessed, when the ashes of Germanicus were borne in solemn 
state within her portals. There were there the attendant crowd of 
female mourners, and the bowed heads and sorrowing hearts of 
strong men. If the Irish throngs had no hero to lament, who 
sustained their glory in the field, and gained for them fresh laurels 
of victory, theirs was at least a more disinterested tribute of grief, 
since it was paid to the unpretending merit which laid down life 
with the simple prayer of "God save Ireland!" Amidst all the 
numerous thousands who proceeded to Glasnevin. there was not. 
probably, one who would have sympathized with any criminal 
offence, much less with the hideous one of murder. And yet these 
thousands honored and revered the memory of the men condemned 
in England as assassins, and ignominiousiy buried in felons' graves. 

This mighty demonstration — at once so unique, so 
solemn, so impressive, so portentous — was an event which 
the rulers of Ireland felt to be of critical importance. 
Following upon the Requiem Masses and the other pro- 
cessions, it amounted to a great public verdict which 
changed beyond all resistance the moral character of the 
Manchester trial and execution. If the procession could 
only have been called a "Fenian" demonstration, then, 
indeed, the government might hope to detract from its 
significance and importance. The sympathy of " con- 
spirators " with fallen companions could not well be 
claimed as an index of general public opinion. But here 
w r as a demonstration, notoriously apart from Fenianism, 
and it showed that a moral, a peaceable, a virtuous, a 
religious people, moved by the most virtuous and religious 
instincts, felt themselves coerced to execrate as a cowardly 
and revolting crime the act of state policy consummated 
on the Manchester gibbet. In fine, the country was up 
in moral revolt against a deed which the perpetrators 
themselves already felt to be of evil character, and one 
which they fain would blot forever from public recol- 
lection. 

What was to be done? For the next ensuing Sunday 



26 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

similar demonstrations were announced in Killarney, 
Kilkenny, Drogheda, Ennis, Clonmel, Queenstown, 
Youghal, and Fermov — the preparations in the first - 
named town being under the direction of, and the pro- 
cession about to be led by, a member of parliament, one of 
the most distinguished and influential of the Irish popular 
representatives — The O'Donoghue. What was to be 
done? Obviously, as the men had been hanged, there 
could be no halting half-way now. Having gone so far, 
the government seemed to feel that it must needs go the 
whole way, and choke off, at all hazards, these incon- 
venient, these damnatory public protests. No man must 
be allowed to speak the unutterable words, which, like 
the handwriting on the wall in the banqueting hall of 
Belshazzar, seemed ever to be appearing before the 
affrighted conscience of Ireland's rulers. Be it right or 
be it wrong, be it justice or be it murder, the act must 
now be upheld — in fact, must not be alluded to. There 
must be silence, by law, on what had been done beneath 
the Manchester gallows-tree. 

But here there presented itself a difficulty. Before the 
government had any idea that the public revulsion would 
become so alarmingly extensive, the responsible ministers 
of the Crown, specifically interrogated on the point, had, 
as we have seen, declared the funeral processions not to 
be illegal, and how, now, could the government interpose 
to prevent them ? It certainly was a difficulty which there 
was no way of surmounting save by a proceeding which, 
in any country constitutionally governed, would cost its 
chief authors their lives on impeachment. The govern- 
ment, notwithstanding the words of its own responsible 
chief's — on the faith of which the Dublin procession ivas 
held, and numerous others were annnounced — decided to 
treat as illegal the proceedings they had but a week 
before declared to be not illegal ; decided to prosecute 
the processionists who had acted on the government decla- 
rations 5 and decided to prevent, by sabre and cannon — by 
slaughter, if necessary — the further processions announced 
in Ki Harney, Clonmel, Kilkenny, and elsewhere! 

On the evening of Thursday, the 12th December, 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 27 

Dublin city was flung into the most intense excitement by 
the issue of the following Government Proclamation : — 

By the Lord Lieutenant and Council op Ireland. 

A PROCLAMATION. 
Abercorn. 

Whereas it has been publicly announced that a meeting is to 
assemble in the city of Kilkenny, and that a procession is to take 
place there on Sunday, 15th of December instant : 

And whereas placards of the said intended meeting and proces- 
sion have been printed and circulated, stating that the said intended 
procession is to take place in honor of certain men lately executed 
in Manchester for the crime of murder, and calling upon Irishmen 
to assemble in thousands for the said procession : 

And whereas meetings and processions of large numbers of per- 
sons have been already held and have taken place in different parts of 
the United Kingdom of Great Britain'and Ireland under the like pre- 
tence, at some of which, and particularly at a meeting and procession 
in the city of Dublin, language of a seditious and. inflammatory 
character has been used, calculated to excite discontent and disaffec- 
tion in the minds of her Majesty's subjects, and to create ill-will and 
animosity amongst them, and to bring into hatred and contempt the 
government and constitution of the country as by law established : 

And whereas the said intended meeting and procession, and the 
objects of the persons to be assembled, and take part therein, are 
not legal or constitutional, but are calculated to bring into hatred 
and contempt the government of the United Kingdom as by law 
established, and to impede the administration of justice by intimi- 
dation and the demonstration of physical force. 

Now, we, the Lord Lieutenant and General Governor of Ireland, 
by and with the advice of her Majesty's Privy Council in Ireland, 
being satisfied that such meetings and processions as aforesaid can 
only tend to serve the ends of factious, seditious, and traitorous 
persons, and to the violation of the public peace, do hereby caution 
and forewarn all persons whomsoever that they do abstain from 
assembling at any such meeting, and from joining or taking part 
in any such procession. 

And we do hereby order and enjoin all magistrates and officers 
intrusted with the preservation of the public peace, and others 
whom it may concern, to aid and assist the execution~of the law, 
in preventing the said intended meeting and procession, and in the 
effectual suppression of the same. 

Given at the Council Chamber in Dublin, this twelfth day of 
December, 1867. 

Richard C. Dublin. R. Keatinge. 

A. Brews i er, C. William Keogh. 

Mayo. John E. Walsh. 

Strathnairn. Hedges Eyre Chatterton. 

Fred. Shaw. Robert R. Warren. 



28 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

Everybody knew what this proclamation meant. It 
plainly enough announced that not only would the further 
demonstrations be prevented, but that the Dublin proces- 
sionists were to feel " the vengeance of the law" — that is, 
the vengeance of the Manchester executioners. Next day 
the city was beset with the wildest rumors as to the arrests 
to be made or the prosecutions to be commenced. Every- 
one seemed to conclude, of course, that Mr. John Martin. 
Mr. A. M. Sullivan, and the Honorary Secretaries of 
the Procession Committee, were on the Crown Prosecutor's 
list ; but, besides these, the names of dozens of gentlemen 
who had been on the committee, or who had acted as 
stewards, marshals, etc., at the funeral, were likewise 
mentioned. On Saturday it became known that, late on the 
previous evening, crown summonses had been served on 
Mr. J. J. Lalor, Dr. J. C. Waters, and Mr. James Scanlan, 
requiring them to attend on the following Tuesday at the 
head police office to answer informations sworn against 
them for taking part in an " illegal procession" and a 
tl seditious assembly." A summons had been taken out 
also against Mr. Martin • but, as he had left Dublin for 
home on Friday, the police officers proceeded after him to 
Kilbroney, and "served" him there on Saturday evening. 

Beside and behind this open move was a secret Castle 
plot, so utterly disreputable that, as we shall see, the 
Attorney-General, startled by the shout of universal 
execration which it elicited, sent his official representa- 
tive into public court to repudiate it as far as he was con- 
cerned, and to offer a public apology to the gentlemen 
aggrieved by it. The history of that scandalous pro- 
ceeding will appear in what follows. 

On Monday, 16th December, 1867, the head police 
office, Exchange-court, Dublin, presented an excited scene. 
The daily papers of the day report the proceedings as 
follows: — 

At one o'clock, the hour appointed by the summons, the defend- 
ants attended in court, accompanied by their professional advisers 
and a number of friends, including Alderman Plunkett, Mr. Butler, 
T. C; the Rev. P. Langan, P. P., Ardcath; A. M. Sullivan, T. C; 
T. D. Sullivan, J. J. Lalor, etc. Mr. Dix and Mr. Allen, divisional 



THE WE AKIN G OF THE GREEN. 29 



magistrate?, presided. Mr. James Murphy, Q. C, instructed by 
Mr. Anderson, represented the Crown. Mr. Heron, Q. C, and Mr. 
Molloy appeared for J. J. Lalor. Mr. Crean appeared for Dr. Waters. 
Mr. Seal Ian appeared as solicitor for J. J. Lalor and for Dr. Waters. 

It was generally understood, on arrival at the head office, that 
the cases would be heard in the usual court upstairs, and, accord- 
ingly, the defendants and the professional gentlemen waited in the 
court for a considerable time after one o'clock. It was then stated 
that the magistrates would sit in another court downstairs, and all 
the parties moved towards the door for the purpose of going there. 
Then another arrangement was made, that the change would not 
take place, and the parties concerned thereupon returned to their 
places. But in a few minutes it was again announced that the pro- 
ceedings would be in the court downstairs. A general movement 
was made again by defendants, by counsel, by solicitors, and oi hers 
towards that court, but, on arriving at the entrances, they were 
guarded by detectives and police. The benches, which ought to 
have been reserved for the bar and solicitors, and also for the press, 
were occupied by detectives, and for a considerable time great diffi- 
culty was experienced in getting places. 

Air. George MTJermott, barrister, applied to the magistrates to 
assign a place for the members of the bar. 

Mr. Dix : — I don't know that the bar, unless they are engaged in 
the cases, have any greater privilege than any one else. We have a 
wretched court here. 

Mr. M'Dermott said the bar was entitled to have room made for 
them when it could be done. 

Mr. W. L. Hackett : — All the seats should not be occupied by 
policemen to the exclusion of the bar. 

Mr. Scallan, solicitor, who spoke from the end of the table, said : 
— Your worships, I am solicitor for one of the traversers, and I can- 
not get near my counsel to communicate with him. The court is 
filled with detectives. 

Mr. Molloy: — My solicitor has a right to be here; I want my 
solicitor to be near me. 

Mr. Dix: — Certainly: how can men defend their clients if they 
are inconvenienced ? 

An appeal was then made to the detectives, who occupied the side 
bar behind the counsel, to make way. 

Mr. Murphy, Q. C, said one was a policeman who was summoned. 

Mr. Dix : — The police have no right to take seats. 

The detectives then yielded, and the professional gentlemen and 
the reporters were accommodated. 

Mr. Dix then called the cases. 

Mr. Molloy : — I appear with Mr. Heron, Q. C, on behalf of J. J. 
Lalor. 

Mr. Crean : — I appear for Dr. Waters. 

Mr. John Martin : — I appear on behalf of myself. 

Mr. Crean :— I understand there is an impression that Dr. Waters 
has been summoned, but he has not. 



30 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

Mr. Dix : — If he appears, that cures any defect. 

Mr. Crean : —I appear on his behalf, "but I believe his personal 
attendance is necessary. 

Mr. Dix : — Does any one appear for Mr. Scanlan ? 

There was no answer. 

Mr. Murphy, Q. C : — I ask whether Dr. Waters and Mr. Lalor 
app ar in court. 
' Mr. Molloy : — My client Mr. Lalor is in court. 

Mr. Crean: — I believe my client is not in court. 

Mr. Murphy, Q. C^: — I will prove the service of the summons 
against Dr. Waters. If there is any defect in the summons, it can 
be remedied. I will not proceed against any person who does nut 
appear. 

Mr. Dix :— Am I to take it there is no appearance for Dr. Waters 
or Mi*. Scanlan ? 

Mr. Crean : —I appear for Dr. Waters. I believe he is not in court. 
It was stated in the newspapers that he was summoned, but I am 
instructed he has not been summoned at all. 

Mr. Murphy, Q. 0., then proceeded in a careful and 
precise address to state the case for the Crown. When 
he had concluded, and was about calling evidence, the 
following singular episode took place : — 

Mr. Dix: — You only proceed against two parties? 

Mr. Murphy: — I shall only proceed against the parties who attend. 
Against those who do not attend, I shall not give evidence. 

Mr. John Martin : — If I am in order I would say, to save the 
time of'the court and to save the public money, that I would be 
very glad to offer every facility to the Crown. I believe, sir, you 
(to Mr. Murphy) are the Crown ? 

Mr. Murphy :— I represent the Crown. 

Mr. Martin : — I will offer every facility to the Crown for establish- 
ing the facts both as to my conduct and my words. 

Mr. A. M. Sullivan : — I also will help you to put up some one, as 
you seem scarce of the accused. I have been summoned myself ■ 

Mr. Dix : — Who are you ? 

Mr. Sullivan : — My name is Alexander M. Sullivan, and, mean- 
ing no disrespect to either of the magistrates, I publicly refuse 
even to be sworn. I was present at the funeral procession — I par- 
ticipated in it openly, deliberately, heai'tily — and I denounce as a 
personal and public outrage the endeavor to degrade the national 
press of this country by attempting to place in the light of 

Mr. Dix : — I cannot allow this. This is not a place for making 
speeches. I understand you are not summoned here at all. 

Mr. Murphy : — He is only summoned as a witness. 

Mr. Dix :— When you (to Mr. Sullivan) are called on will be the 
time to hear you ; not now. 

Mr. Sullivan : — I ask your worship, with your usual courtesy, to 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 31 

hear me while I complain publicly of endeavoring to place the 
editor of a national journal on the list of crown witnesses in this 
court as a public and personal indignity — and as an endeavor to 
destroy the influence of that national press, whose power they feel 
and fear, but which they dare not prosecute. I personally com- 
plain 

Mr. Murphy : — I don't know that this should be permitted. 

Mr. Sullivan : —Don't interrupt me for a moment. 

Mr. Dix :— Mr. Sullivan wants to have himself included in ihe 
summons and charge. 

Mr. Murphy : — That cannot be done at present. 

Mr. Sullivan : — With one sentence I will conclude. 

Mr. Murphy : — I don't intend to have you called as a witness 

Mr. Sullivan : — It is an endeavor to accomplish my imprison- 
ment for contempt, when the government, "willing to wound, 
afraid to strike," know that they dare not accuse me as a Fenian 

Mr. Dix : — You are not here as a Fenian. 

Mr. Sullivan : — For a moment. Knowing well, your worship, 
that they could not get in all Ireland a jury to cunvict m> j , to secure 
my imprisonment openly and fairly, they do this. I now declare 
that I participated in that funeral, and I defy those who were guilty 
of such cowardice as to subpoena me as a crown witness (applause). 

Mr. Crean : — I perceive that my client, Dr. C. Waters, is now in 
court. In order to facilitate business, I shall offer no further ob- 
jection ; but, as a matter of fact, he was not summoned. 

Then the case proceeded, the police giving their evi- 
dence, on the whole, very fairly, and testifying that 
the procession was one of the most peaceable, orderly, 
solemn, and impressive public demonstrations ever seen 
in Dublin. Against Mr. Martin it was testilied that he 
marched at the head of the procession arm-in-arm with 
Mr. A. M. Sullivan and another gentleman ; and ttiat he 
delivered the memorable speech at the cemetery gate. 
Against Dr. Waters and Mr. Lalor it was advanced that 
they were honorary secretaries of the funeral committee, 
and had moreover acted, ihe former as a marshal, the 
latter as a steward, in the procession. It was found, 
however, that the case could not be closed that day j 
and accordingly, late in the evening, the magistrates in- 
timated that they would adjourn over to- next morning. 
Suddenly, from the body of the court, is heard a stento- 
rian voice : 

Mr. Bracken: — I am summoned here as a crown witness. My 
name is Thomas Bracken. I went, heart, and soul, into that pro- 
cession (applause) 



32 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

Mr. Anderson, Junior : — I don't know this gentleman. 

Mr. Bracken : — I am very proud that neither you nor any one 
like you knows me (applause). 

Mr. Dix : — I cannot hear you. 

Mr. Bracken : — I have been brought here as a crown witness away 
from my business, and am losing my time here. 

Mr. Donal Sullivan : — I am another, and I avow myself in the 
same way. 

Several voices : — So am I. 

Mr. Bracken : — I want to know why I should be taken from my 
business, by which I have to support my family, and put me before 
the eyes of my countrymen as a crown witness (applause). I went 
heart and soul into the procession, and I am ready to do the same 
to-morrow, and abide by the consequences (applause). It is curious 
that the government should point me out as a witness. 

Mr. Murphy : — I ask for an adjournment till to-morrow. 

Mr. Dix : — It is more convenient to adjourn now. 

Mr. Martin : — 1 don't want to make any insinuations against the 
gentlemen who l'epreseut the Crown, nor against the police, but I 
mention the fact, in order that they may relieve themselves from 
the odium which would attach to them if they cannot explain it. 
This morning a paragraph appears in one of the principal Dublin 
daily papers, the Irish Times, in which it is said that I, John 
Martin, have absconded : I must presume that the information was 
supplied to that paper either by the crown representatives or by 
the police. 

Mr. Murphy, Q. C. : — It is right to state, so far as I am informed, 
that an endeavor was made to serve Mr. Martin in Dublin. When the 
summonses were issued he was not in Dublin, but had gone down to 
the country, either to his own or the house of his brother, or 

Mr. Ross Todd, who sat beside Mr. Martin, hei'e jumped up and 
said : — To his own house, sir, to his own house. 

Mr. Murphy : — Very well. A constable was sent down there, 
and saw Mr. Martin, and he reported that Mr. Martin said he 
would attend forthwith. 

Mr. Dix : — And he has done so ? 

Mr. Murphy : — I have no other knowledge. It was briefed to me 
that Mr. Martin said he would attend forthwith. 

Mr. Martin : — I am glad I have given the representatives of the 
Crown an opportunity of making that statement. But I cannot 
understand how, when the representatives of the Crown had the 
information, and when I told the constables I would attend— as I 
have done at great inconvenience and expense to myself — I cannot 
understand how a newspaper should come to say I had absconded. 

Mr. Murphy: — I cannot understand it either; I can only tell the 
facts within my own knowledge. 

Mr. Molloy said it seemed very extraordinary that witnesses 
should be summoned, and the Crown say they were not. 

Mr. Sullivan wished his summons to be examined. Did the 
magistrates sign it if 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 33 



Mr. Dix: — Unless I saw the original I could not say. 

Mr. J. J. Lalor: — Sir John Gray has been summoned as a witness, 
too It is monstrous. 

Sir John Gray, M.P. : — I wish to state to your worship the un- 
pleasant circumstances under which I find myself placed. At an 
advanced hour on Saturday I learned that the Crown intended to 
summon as witnesses for the prosecution some of the gentlemen con- 
nected with my establishment. I immediately communicated with 
the Crown Prosecutor, and said it was unfair towards these gentle- 
men to have them placed in such an odious position, and that 
their refusal to act as crown witnesses might subject them to serious 
personal consequences ; I said it would not be right of me to allow 
any of the gentlemen of my establishment to subject themselves to 
the consequences of such refusal, as I knew well they would all re- 
fuse. I suggested, if any unpleasant consequences should follow, 
they should fall on the head of the establishment alone (applause). 
I said, " Summon me, and deal with me." I am here now, sir, to 
show my respect for you personally and for this court; but I wish 
to state most distinctly that I will never consent to be examined as 
a crown witness (applause). 

Mr. Anderson, Jun.. here interposed. 

Sir John Gray: — I beg your pardon. I am addressing the bench, 
and I hope I won't be interrupted. Some of my family are going 
to-night to England to spend the Christmas with my son. I intend 
to escort them. I will not be here to-morrow. I wish distinctly to 
state so. If I were here, my respect for you and the bench would 
induce me to be present, but I would be present only to declare 
what I have already stated, that I would not consent to be sworn 
or to give any evidence whatever in this prosecution. I think it 
right to add that I attach no blame whatever to the police 
authorities in this transaction. They have, I am sure, performed 
their duty in this case with that propriety which has always 
characterized their conduct. Neither do I attach any blame to 
the Crown Prosecutor. I simply desire to state, with the most 
profound respect for the bench and the court, that I will not be a 
witness (loud applause). 

Mr. Anderson: — We don't intend to examine Sir John Gray, but 
I wish to say that, if the police believed any one could give impor- 
tant evidence, it is a new proposition to me that it is an indignity 
upon a man to summon him as a crown witness 

Mr. A. M. Sullivan: — I say it is an indignity, and that the Crown 
Solicitor should not seek to shift the responsibility on the police, 
who only do what they are told. 

Mr. Anderson: — I am not trying to shift anything. 

Mr. Sullivan : — You are. You are trying to shift the responsibility 
of having committed a gross indignity upon a member of parlia- 
ment, upon myself, and upon many honest men here. 

Several persons holding up summonses said, " Hear, hear," and 
"Yes." 

Mr. Sullivan: — This I charge to have been done by Mr. Anderson 



34 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN". 

as his base revenge upon honest men who bade him defiance. Mr. 
Anderson must answer for this conduct. It is a vile conspiracy — • 
a plot against honest men, who heie now to his face tell him they 
scorn and defy him (applause). 

Mr. Dix: — I adjouru the case till one o'clock to-morrow. 

The proceedings were then adjourned. 

So far have we quoted from the Freeman's Journal. Of 
the closing scene Saunders's News- Letter, grieving sorely 
over such a fiasco, gives the following account: — 

The adjournment of the court, was attended with a scene of tumult 
and disorder that was rarely, or never, witnessed in a police court, 
in presence of the magistrates and a large number of police— botb 
inspectors and detectives. The crowd of unwilling witnesses who 
had been summoned to give evidence against the defendants, clamor- 
ously protested against being brought there as crown witnesses, 
avowed that they were present taking part in the procession, and 
loudly declared that they would not attend at any subsequent hear- 
ing of the case. The latter part of the case, indeed, was marked 
with frequent interruptions and declarations of a similar kind, often 
very vociferously uttered. The proceedings terminated amid the 
greatest and unchecked disorder. 

In plain words, " Scene I, Act I," in what was meant 
to be a most solemn, awe-inspiring government function, 
turned out an unmistakable farce, if not a disastrous 
break-down. Even the government journals themselves, 
without waiting for "Scene II, v (though coming off im- 
mediately), raised a shout of condemnation at the discredit- 
able bungle, and demanded that it should be forthwith 
abandoned. Considering the course ultimately taken by 
the government, these utterances of the government 
organs themselves have a serious meaning, and are of 
peculiar importance. Tne ultra-conservative Evening 
Mail (Tuesday, 17th December) said: — 



TOE POLICE COURT SCENE. 

The scenes of yesterday in the Dublin police-court will cause an 
astonished public to put the question, Is the government insane? 
They suppress the processions one day, and on the next proceed 
with deliberation to destroy all possible effect from such an act by 
inviting the magistrates' court to be used as a platform from 
which a fresh roar of defiance may be uttered. The originators of 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 35 

the seditious demonstrations are charged with having brought the 
government of the kingdom into hatred and contempt ; but what 
step taken, or word spoken or written, from the date of the first pro- 
cession to the last, brought the government into anything like the 
" contempt" into which it plunged itself yesterday ? The prosecu- 
tions now instituted are in themselves an act of utter weakness. We 
so declared when we imagined that they would be at least rationally 
conducted ; but what is to be said now ? It is literally impossible 
to give any sane explanation of the course taken in summoning as 
a crown witness one who must have been known to be prepared to 
boast of his participation in the procession. Mr. Sullivan boldly- 
bearded the prosecutors of his brethren. It was a splendid oppor- 
tunity for him. " I was present," he said, " at that funeral procession. 
I participated in it, deliberately and heartily. I call this a personal 
and public outrage, to endeavor to drag the national press of this 

country " Timid and ineffectual attempts were made by the 

magistrate to protect his court and position from insult, but Mr. 
Sullivan had the field, and would hold it. " He might help the Crown 
to put some one else up," he said, "as they are scarce, perhaps, in 
accused." The summoning of him was, he resumed, an " attempt to 
destroy the national press, whose power the Crown feels and fears, 
but which they dare not prosecute." Mr. Sullivan was suffered 
to describe the conduct of the crown prosecutors at another stage 
as an " infamous plot." The government desired " to accomplish 
his imprisonment; they were willing to wound, but afraid to strike." 
"They knew," he added, "that they would not get a jury in all Ire- 
land to agree to convict me; and I now characterize the conduct 
of the Crown as base and cowardly." Another witness, in a halting 
way, entered a like protest against being supposed to have sym- 
pathy with the Crown in the case ; and the net result was a very 
remarkable triumph for what Mr. Sullivan calls the "national 
press " — a title wholly misapplied and grossly abused. Are we to 
have a succession of these "scenes in court"? 

Saunders's Neivs-Letter of the same date dealt with the 
subject as follows : — 

The first step in what appears to be a very doubtful proceeding 
was taken yesterday by the law-advisers of the Crown. We 
refer to the prosecution instituted against the leaders and organ- 
izers of the Fenian procession which took place in this city on 
Sunday, the 8th instant, in honor of the memories of the men exe- 
cuted at Manchester for murder. As to the character of that demon- 
stration we never entertained any doubt. But it must be remem- 
bered that similar demonstrations had taken place a week previously 
in London, in Manchester, and in Cork, and that not only did the 
authorities not interfere to prevent them, but that the prime minister 
declared in the House of Lords that they were not illegal. Lord 
Derby, doubtless, intended to limit his observations to the violation 
of the Party Processions Act, without pronouncing any opinion as 



36 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

to the legality or illegality of the processions, viewed under another 
aspect, as seditious assemblies. But his language was calculated to 
mislead, and, as a matter of fact, was taken by the Fenian sympa- 
thizers as an admission that their mock-funeral processions were 
not unlawful. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, however 
much to be deplored, that the disaffected portion of the popula- 
tion should have eagerly taken advantage of Lord Derby's declara- 
tion to make a safe display of their sympathies and of their strength. 
They were encouraged to do so by the toleration already extended 
towards their fellows in England and in Cork, as well as by the 
statement of the prime-minister. Under these circumstances the 
prosecution of persons who took part in the Dublin procession, even 
as organizers of that proceeding, appears to us to be a matter of 
doubtful policy. Mr. John Martin, the leader of the movement, 
stands in a different position from his companions. They confined 
themselves to walking in the procession; he delivered an inflamma- 
tory and seditious speech, for which he alone is responsible, and which 
might have been made the subject of a separate proceeding against, 
him. To do Mr. Martin justice, he showed no desire to shirk the 
responsibility he has incurred. At the police-court, yesterday, he 
frankly avowed the part he had taken in the procession, and offered 
to acknowledge the speech which he delivered on that occasion. If, 
however, the policy which dictated the prosecution be questionable, 
there can be no doubt at all as to the objectionable manner in which 
some of the persons engaged in it have acted — assuming the state- 
ment to be true that Mr. Sullivan, proprietor and editor of the 
Nation newspaper, and Sir John Gray, proprietor of the Freeman s 
Journal, have been summoned as crown witnesses. Who is respon- 
sible for this extraordinary pix>ceeding, it is at present impossible to 
say. Mr. Murphy, Q. C, the counsel for the Crown, declared that 
he did not intend to examine Mr. Sullivan ; Mr. Anderson, the son 
of the Crown Solicitor, who appears to be intrusted with the man- 
agement of these pi-osecutions, denied that he had directed the 
summonses to be served, and Mr. Dix, the magistrate, stated that 
he had not signed them. Yet Mr. Sullivan produced the summons 
requiring him to attend as a witness, and in the strongest manner 
denounced the proceeding as a base and cowardly attempt on the 
part of the government to imprison for contempt of court a 
"national journalist" whom they dared not prosecute. Sir John 
Gray, in less violent language, complained of an effort having been 
made to place some of the gentlemen in his employment in the 
" odious position of crown witnesses," and stated that he himself 
had been subpcenaed, but would decline to give evidence. We 
have not concealed our opinion as to the proper way of dealing with 
Mr. Sullivan. As the weekly disseminator of most exciting and 
inflammatory articles, he is doing much to promote disaffection and 
encourage Fenianism. In no other country in the world would 
such writing be tolerated for a day ; and assuredly it ought not to 
be permitted in Ireland in perilous and exciting times like the 
present. But if Mr. Sullivan has offended against the law, let him 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 37 



be proceeded against boldly, openly, and fairly. He has, we think, 
a right to complain of being summoned as a witness for the Crown ; 
but the government have even more reason to complain of the con- 
duct of their servants in exposing them by their blunders to ridicule 
and contempt. It is too bad that, with a large and highly-paid 
staff of lawyeis and attorneys, the government prosecutions should 
be conducted in a loose and slovenly manner. When a state 
prosecution has been determined upon, every step ought to be care- 
fully and anxiously considered, and subordinate officials should not 
be permitted by acts of officious zeal to compromise their superiors 
and bring discredit on the administration of the law. 

The Liberal-Conservative Irish Times was still more 
outspoken : — 

While all commend the recent action of the government, and 
give the executive full credit for the repression by proclamation of 
processions avowedly intended to be protests against authority and 
law, it is generally regretted that prosecutions should have been 
instituted against some of those who had taken part in these pro- 
cessions. Had these menacing assemblages been held after the 
proclamations were issued, or in defiance of the authorities, the 
utmost power should have been exerted to put them down, and 
the terrors of the law would properly have been invoked to punish 
the guilty. But, bearing in mind the fact that these processions 
had been declared by the head of the government — expressing, no 
doubt, the opinion entertained at that time by the law officers of 
the Crown — that these processions were "not illegal;" remem- 
bering, too, that similar processions had been already held 
without the slightest intimation of opposition on the part of the 
government; and recollecting, also, that the proclamation was 
everywhere implicitly obeyed, and without the least wish to 
dispute it, we cannot avoid regretting that the government 
should have been advised, at the last hour, to institute prosecu- 
tions of such a nature. Once, however, it was determined to vindi- 
cate the law in this way, the utmost care should have been taken 
to maintain the dignity of the proceedings, and to avoid everything 
calculated to create annoyance, irritation, or offence. If we except 
the moderate and very able speech of Mr. Murphy, Q. C, there is 
no one part of the proceedings in the police-court which merits 
commendation. Some of the witnesses utterly broke down ; oppor- 
tunity was given for utterances not calculated to increase respect 
for the law ; and disloyal sentiments were boldly expressed aud 
cheered until the court rang again. ■ Great and serious as was the 
mistake in not obtaining an accurate legal opinion respecting the 
character of these meetings at the first, and then prohibiting them, 
a far greater mistake is now, we think, committed in instituting 
these retrospective prosecutions. For this mistake the law-officers 
of the Crown must, we infer, be held responsible. Were they men 
of energy and vigor, with the necessary knowledge of the world, 



33 THE WEARING OP THE GREEN. 



they would not have suffered the executive to permit processions 
first, and then prohibit them, and at the same time try men for 
participating in what had been pronounced not to be illegal. We 
exonerate the Attorney-General from the error of summoning to 
give evidence persons who openly gloried in the part they had 
taken in these meetings. To command the presence of such wit- 
nesses was of the nature of an offence. There was no ground, for 
instance, for supposing that Mr. Sullivan would have played the 
informer agaiust the friends who had walked with him in the pro- 
cession — such is not his character, his feeling, or his sense of 
honor. The summoning of those who had moved with, and as 
part of, the multitude, to give evidence against their fellows, was 
not only a most injudicious, but a futile expedient, and naturally 
has caused very great dissatisfaction and annoyance. The circum- 
stance, however, proves that the prosecution was instituted with- 
out that exact care and minute attention to all particulars which 
are necessary in a case of this kind. 

Even the Daily Express, the organ of the ultra-Orange 
section of the Irish administration, had to own the discom- 
fiture of its patrons : — 

Are our police offices to become a kind of national journals' 
court"? Is the "national press of Ireland" then and there to bid 
for the support immediately of the gallery, and more remotely of 
that, portion of the population which is humorously called the Irish 
Nation ? These speculations are suggested by a curious scene which 
took place at the inquiry at the police office yesterday, and which 
will be found detailed in another column. Mr. Sullivan, the editor 
of the Nation, seized the opportunity of being summoned as a wit- 
ness, to denounce the government for not including him in the pros- 
ecution. He complained " of endeavoring to place the editor of 
a national journal on the list of crown witnesses in this court as a 
public and personal indignity," and as an endeavor to destroy the 
influence of the national press. It is certainly an open avowal to 
declare that the mere placing of the name of the editor of a " na- 
tional" journal upon the list of crown witnesses is an unparalleled 
wrong. But Sir John Gray was still more instructive. From him 
we learn that a witness summoned to assist the Crown in the prose- 
cution of sedition is placed in an "odious position." Odious it 
may be, but in the eyes of whom ? Surely not of any loyal sub- 
ject. A paid informer, or professional spy, may be personally 
odious in the eyes of those who, make use of his services. But we 
have yet to learn how a subject who is summoned to come forward 
to ass ; st the government fills an ooious position in the opinion of 
his loyal fellow-subjects. We should rattier have supposed him to 
be entitled to their gratitude. However that may be, Sir John 
Gray came gallantly to the rescue of several "gentlemen connected 
with his establishment," whom, he was informed, the government 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 39 

intended to summon as witnesses. This, he knew, they would all 
refuse. " I suggested, if any unpleasant consequences should fol- 
low, that they should fall on* the head of the establishment alone." 
He called upon the authorities to summon him. We do complain 
of our police-courts being made the scenes of open avowals of de- 
termination to thwart, or, at least, not to assist the government 
in their endeavors to prosecute treason and sedition. We can 
imagine no principle on which a subject could object to assisting 
the Crown as a witness, which, if followed to its logical conse- 
quences, would not justify open rebellion. It is certainly a dan- 
geroua doctrine to preach that it is allowable, nay, even praise- 
worthy in a subject to refuse to give evidence when called upon to 
do so by the Crown. There is a disposition too prevalent in this 
country to regard the law as an enemy, and opposition to it, either 
by passive obstruction or active rebellion, as a praiseworthy and 
patriotic act. Can we wonder at this when we hear opposition to 
constituted authority openly preached by the instructors of "the 
nation/' and witness the eagerness of the "national press" to free 
itself from the terrible suspicion of coining to the assistance, even 
involuntarily, of the government in its struggle with sedition and 
treason ? 

It was amidst such an outburst of vexation and indig- 
nation as this, even from the government journals them- 
selves, that the curtain rose next morning on Act II, in 
the head police office. A very unique episode com- 
menced the proceedings on this day also. At the resump- 
tion of the case, Mr. Murphy, Q. C. ; on behalf of the 
Crown, said : — 

Mr. Sullivan and some other gentlemen complained yesterday of 
having been served with summonses to give evidence in those cases. 
I am directed by the Attorney-General to state that he regrets it, 
and that it was done without his authority. He never gave any 
directions to have those persons summoned, nor was it done by 
any one acting under his directions. It occurred in this way. Gene- 
ral directions were given to the police to summon parties to give 
evidence, in order to establish the charge against those four gentle- 
men who are summoned for taking an active part in the procession. 
The police, in the exercise of their discretion, thought it might be 
necessary to summon parties who took part in the procession, but 
there was no intention, on the part of those aiding on behalf of the 
Crown, to summon partiest to give evidence who themselves took part 
in the procession, and I am sorry it occurred. 

Mr. Dix : — I may mention that a magistrate when signing a sura- 
n ons knows nothing of the witnesses. If they were all living in 
Jamaica, he merely signs it as a matter of form. 

Mr. A. M. Sullivan :— I thank your worship and Mr. Murphy, and 



40 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

I think it will be seen that, had your worship not allowed me yes- 
terday to make the protest I did, the Attorney-General would not, 
have the opportunity of making the disclaimer which it became the 
dignity of the government to make. The aspect of the case yes- 
terday was very adverse towards Sir John Gray, myself, and other 
gentlemen. Although my brother signed his name to the notice, 
he was not summoned as principal but as a witness, but, if neces- 
saiy, he was determined to stand side by side in the dock with 
Mr. Martin. 

Mr. Allen : — I am very glad of the explanation, because I was 
blamed for allowing persons making speeches here yesterday. I 
think, if a man has any ground of complaint, the sooner it is set 
right the better. 

Mr. Sullivan : — I have to thank the bench. 

Mr. Allen : — I am glad that a satisfactory arrangement has been 
come to by all parties, because there is an objection entertained by 
some persons to be brought into court as witnesses for the Crown. 

Mr. Sullivan : — Especially a public journalist. 

Mr. Allen :— Quite so. 

Mr. Heron then proceeded to cross-examine the witness. 

It was elicited from the government reporter that, by 
a process which he called " throwing in the vowels," he 
was able to make Mr. Martin's speech read sufficiently 
seditious. Mr. D. 0. Heron, Q. 0., then addressed the 
court on behalf of Mr. J. J. Lalor ; and Mr. Michael 
Crean, barrister, on behalf of Dr. Waters. Mr. Martin, 
on his own behalf, then spoke as follows :— 

I admit I attended the procession. I admit also that I spoke 
words which I consider very grave and serious words upon that oc- 
casion. For my acts on that occasion, for the sense and intention 
of the words 1 spoke on that occasion, I am perfectly willing to be 
put upon my country. Not only for all my acts on that occasion — 
not only for the words which I spoke on that occasion ; but for all 
my acts, and all the words I ever spoke or wrote, publicly or pri- 
vately, upon Irish politics, I am perfectly willing to be put upon 
my country. In any free country that has real constitutional in- 
stitutions to guarantee the liberty of the subject — to guarantee 
the free trial of the subject charged with an offence against either 
the state or his neighbor, it would be quite absurd to expect a 
man could be put upon his country and convicted of a crime for 
doing that and using such words as the vast majority of his fellow- 
countrymen approve. In this case I believe that a vast majority 
of my fellow-countrymen do not disapprove of the acts I acknow- 
ledge on that occasion, and that they sympathize in the sentiment 
of the words I then spoke. Therefore the mere fact that a prose- 
cution is preferred against me for that act and for those words, is 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 41 

evidence, in my opinion, that this country does not at present 
enjoy real^ constitutional institutions, guaranteeing a free trial — 
guaranteeing that the man accused shall be really put upon 
his country. Because it is absurd to think that any twelve 
honest men, my neighbors, put upon their oaths, would declare 
that to be a crime which it is probable that, at least, four-fifths of 
them believe to be right — right both constitutionally and morally. 
I am aware — we are all aware — that the gentlemen who represent 
the Crown in this country, have very powerful means at their dis- 
posal for obtaining convictions, in the form of law and in the form 
of justice, of any person they think proper to accuse; and, without 
meaning either to sneer or to joke in this matter, I acknowledge 
the moderation of the gentlemen who represent the government, 
since they chose to trouble themselves with me at all. I acknow- 
ledge their moderation in proposing to indict me only for sedition, 
for the language which they say I used, because it is possible for 
them, with the means at their disposal, to have me convicted for 
murder, or burglary, or bigamy (laughter). I am sorry to say what 
seems like a sneer, but I use the words in deep and solemn serious- 
ness, and I say no more than I am perfectly ready to be tried fairly 
or foully (applause in court). 

The magistrates reserved their decision till next day ; 
so that there might be decent and seemly pause for the 
purpose of looking up and pondering the legal precedents, 
as the legal fiction would have it ; and on next day, they 
announced that they would send all the accused for trial to 
the next Commission at Green-street, to open on the 10th 
February, 1868. The several traversers, however, were 
required to enter merely into their own recognizances in 
<£500 each to appear for trial. 

In this police-court proceeding the government, con- 
fessedly, were morally worsted — utterly humiliated, in 
fact. So far from creating awe or striking terror, the 
prosecution had evoked general contempt, scorn, and in- 
dignation. To such an extent was this fact recognized, 
that the government journals themselves, as we have seen, 
were amongst the loudest in censuring the whole proceed- 
ing, and in supporting the general expectation that there 
was an end of the prosecution. 

Not so, however, was it to be. The very bitterness of 
the mortification inflicted upon them by their " roll in 
the dust" on their first legal encounter with the procession- 
ists, seemed to render the crown officials more and mora 



42 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

vindictive. It was too galling to lie under the public chal- 
lenge hurled at them by Mr. Bracken, Mr. O'Ifceilly, and 
Mr. Sullivan. Alter twelve days' cogitation, the govern- 
ment made up its mind to strike. 

On Saturday, 28th December, 1867 — -just as every one 
in Ireland seemed to have concluded that, a,s the con- 
servative journals said, there was "an end" of the foolish 
and ill-advised funeral prosecutions — Mr. Sullivan, Mr. 
Bracken (one of the funeral stewards), Mr. Jennings, of 
Kingstown (one of the best known and most trusted of the 
nationalists of "Dunleary" district), Mr. O'Reilly (one of 
the mounted marshals at the procession), and some others, 
were served with citations to appear, on Monday the 30th, 
at the head police office, to answer charges identical 
with those preferred on the 16th against Mr. Martin, Dr. 
Waters,' and Mr. Lalor. 

Preliminary prosecution No. 2 very much resembled 
No. 1. Mr. Murphy, Q. 0., stated the crown case with 
fairness and moderation ; and the police, as before, gave 
their evidence like men who felt "duty" and "conscience" 
in sore disagreement on such an occasion. 'Mr. Jennings 
and Mr. O'Beilly were defended, respectively, by Mr. 
Molloy and Mr. Crean ; two advocates whose selection 
from the junior bar for these critical and important 
public cases was triumphantly vindicated by their conduct 
from the first to the last scene of the drama. Mr. Sullivan, 
Mr. Bracken, and the other accused, were not represented 
by counsel. On the first-named gentleman (Mr. Sullivan) 
being formally called on, he addressed the court at some 
length. He said : — 

Please your worship, had the officials of the Crown adopted to- 
wards me, in the first instance, the course which they hav r e taken 
upon the preseut occasion, and had they not adopted the singular 
course which they pursued in my regard when I last appeared in 
this court, I should trouble you with no observations. For, as one 
of the 50,000 persons who, on the 8th of December, in this city, 
publicly, lawfully, and peacefully demonstrated their protest against 
what they believed to have been a denial of law and an outrage on 
justice, I should certainly waste no public time in this preliminary 
investigation, but rather admit the facts as you perceive I have 
done to-day, and hasten the final decision on the issues really knit 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN". 43 



between us and the Crown. What was the course adopted by the 
Crown in the first instance against me ? They had before them, on 
the 9th, just as well as on the 29th — it is in evidence that they 
had — the fact that I, openly and publicly, took part in that de- 
monstration — that sorrowful and sad protest against injustice 
(applause). They had before them then as much as they have before 
them to-day, or as much as they will ever have affecting me. For, 
whatever course I take in public affairs in this country, I conceal 
nothing; I take it publicly, openly, and deliberately. If I err, I 
am satisfied to abide the consequences; and, whenever it may suit 
the weathercock judgment of Lord Mayo, and his vacillating law- 
advisers, to characterize my acts or my opinions as illegal, seditious, 
heretical, idolatrous, or treasonable, I must, like every other sub- 
ject, be content to take my chance of their being able to find a jury 
sufficiently facile or sufficiently stupid to carry out their behests 
against me. But they did not choose that course at first. They 
did not summon me as a principal, but they subpoenaed me as a 
witness — as a crown witness — against some of my dearest personal 
and public friends. The Attorney-General, whose word I most fully 
and frankly accept in the matter — for I would not charge him with 
bring wanting in personal truthfulness— denied having had any 
complicity in the course of conduct pursued towards me ; but 
where does he lay the responsibility? On "the police." What is 
the meaning of that phrase, "the police"? He surely does not 
mean that the members of the force, who parade our streets, ex- 
ercise viceregal functions (laughter). Who was this person thus 
called the "police"? How many degrees above or below the 
Attorney-General are we to look for this functionary described as 
" the police," who has the authority to have a " seditious " man — that 
is the allegation — a seditious man, exempted from prosecution ? 
The police cannot do that. Who, then ? Who was he that could 
draw the line between John Martin and his friend, A. M. Sullivan 
— exempt the one, prosecute the other — summon the former as a 
defendant and subpoena the latter as a crown witness? What was 
the object? It is plain. There are at this moment, I am con- 
vinced — who doubts it ? — throughout Ireland, as jet unfound out, 
Talbots and Conidons in the pay of the Crown acting as Fenian 
Centimes, who, next day, would receive from their employers direc- 
tions to spread amongst my countrymen the intelligence that I had 
been here to betray my associate, John Martin (applause). But 
their plot recoiled — their device was exposed; public opinion ex- 
pressed its reprobation of the unsuccessful trick; and now they 
come to mend their hand. The men who were exempted before are 
prosecuted to-day. Now, your worships, on this whole case — on 
this entire procndure— I deliberately charge that not we, but the 
government, have violated the law. I charge that the government 
are well aware that the law is against them— that they are irresist- 
ibly driven upon this attempt to strain and break the law against 
the constitutional right and liberty of the subject by their mere 
party exigencies and necessities. 



44 THE WEARING OF THE GREEX. 

He then reviewed at length the bearing of the Party 
Processions Act upon the present case, and next pro- 
ceeded to deal with the subject of the Manchester execu- 
tions ; maintaining that the men were hanged, as were 
others before them, in like moments of national passion 
and frenzy, on a false evidence and a rotten verdict. Mr. 
Sullivan proceeded : — 

It is because the people love justice and abhor injustice — because 
the real crime of those three victims is believed to have been de- 
votion to native land — that the Catholic churches of Ireland resound 
with prayers and requiem hymns, and the public highways were 
lined with sympathizing thousands, until the guilty fears of the 
executioners proclaimed it illegal to mourn. Think you, sir, if 
the crown-view of this matter were the true one, would the 
Catholic clergy of Ireland — they who braved fierce and bitter un- 
popularity in reprehending the Fenian conspiracy at a time when 
Lord Mayo's organ was patting it on the back for its " fine Sardin- 
ian spirit" — would these ministers of religion drape their churches 
for three common murderers ? I repel as a calumnious and slander- 
ous accusation against the Catholic clergy of Ireland this charge, that, 
by their mourning for these three martyred Irishmen, they expressed 
sympathy, directly or indirectly, with murder or life-taking. If an 
act be seditious, it is not the less illegal in the church than in the 
graveyard, or on the road to the cemetery. Are we, then, to un- 
derstand that our churches are to be invaded by bands of soldiery, 
and our priests dragged from the altars, for the seditious crime of 
proclaiming aloud their belief in the innocence of Allen, Larkin, 
and O'Biien? This, sir, is what depends on the decision in this 
case, here or elsewhere. All this and more. It is to be decided 
whether, in their capacity of Privy Councillors, the judges of the 
land shall put forth a proclamation, the legality or binding force of 
which they will afterwards sit as judges to try. It is whether, 
there being no constitution now allowed to exist in the country, 
there is to be no law save what a Castle proclamation will construct, 
permit, or decree; no mourning save what the police will license; 
no demonstration of opiuiou save whatever accords with the govern- 
ment views. We hear much of the liberties enjoyed in this country. 
No doubt, we have fine constitutional rights and securities until 
the very time they are most required. When we have no need to 
invoke them, they are permitted to us ; but at the only time 
when they might be of substantial value, they are, as the phrase 
goes, " suspended." Who. unless in times of governmental 
panic, need apprehend unwarranted arrest? When else is the 
Habeas Corpus Act of such considerable protection to the subject ? 
When, unless when the Crown seeks to iuvade public liberty, is 
the purity and integrity of trial by jury of such value and im- 
portance in political cases? Yet all the world knows that the 



THE WEARING OF THE GKEEX. 45 



British government, whenever such a conflict arises, juggles and 
packs the jury 

Mr. Dix : — I really cannot allow that language to be used in this 
court, Mr. Sullivan, with every disposition to accord you, as an 
accused person, the amplest limits in your observations. Such 
language goes beyond what I can permit 

Mr. Sullivan : — I, at once, in respect for your worship, retract the 
word juggle. I will say the Crown manipulates the jury. 

Mr. Dix : — I can't, at all, allow this line of comment to be pur- 
sued 

Mr. Sullivan : — With all respect for your worship, and, while I 
am ready to use any phrase most suitable for utterance here, I will 
not give up my right to state and proclaim the fact, however un- 
palatable, when it is notoriously true. I stand upon my rights to 
say that you have all the greater reasons to pause, ere you send 
me, or any other citizen, for trial before a jury in a crown prosecu- 
tion at a moment like the present, when trial by jury, as the theory 
of the constitution supposes it, does not exist in the land. I say 
there is now, notoriously, no fair trial by jury to be had in this 
country, as between the subject and the Crown. Never yet, in an 
important political case, have the government in this country dared 
to allow twelve men, indifferently chosen, to pass into the jury-box 
to try the issue between the subject and the Crown. And now, 
sir, if you send the case for trial, and suppose the government 
succeed by the juries they are able to empanel here, with " Fenian'' 
ticketed on the backs of the accused by the real governors of the 
country — the Heygates and the Bruces — and if it is declared by 
you that in this land of mourning it has become, at last, criminal 
even to mourn — what a victory for the Crown ! Oh, sir, they have 
be»m for years winning such victories, and thereby manufacturing 
conspiracies- -driving people from the open and legitimate expres- 
sion of their sentiments into corners to conspire and to hide. I 
stand here as a man against whom some clamor has been raised 
for my efforts to save my countrymen from the courses into which 
the government conduct has been driving them, and I say that 
there is no more revolutionary agent in the land than that perse- 
cution of authority which says to the people, " When we strike you, 
we forbid you to weep." We meet the Crown, foot to foot, on its 
case here. We say we have committed no offence, but that the 
prosecution against us has been instituted to subserve their party 
exigencies, and that the government is straining and violating the 
law. We challenge them to the issue; and even should they suc- 
ceed in obtaining from a crown jury a verdict against us, we have 
a wider tribunal to appeal to — the decision of our own consciences 
and the judgment of humanity (applause). 

Mr. Murphy, Q. C, briefly replied. He asked his worship not 
to decide that the procession was illegal, but that this case was one 
for a court of law and a jury. 

On this occasion it was unnecessary for Mr. Dix to 



46 THE WEARING OF THE GliEEN. 

take any tl time to consider his decision." All the 
accused were bound over in their own recognizances to 
stand their trials at the forthcoming Commission iti 
Green-street court, on the 10th of February, 1S6S. 

The plunge, before attempting which, the crown officials 
had shivered so long, had now been taken, and they 
determined to go through with the work, a Voutrance. 
In the interval between the last police-court scene de- 
scribed above, and the opening of the Green-street Com- 
mission, in February, 1868, prosecutions were directly 
commenced against the Irishman and the Weekly News 
for seditious writing. In the case of the former journal, 
the proprietor tried some skilfully-devised preparatory 
legal moves and manoeuvres, not one of which, of course, 
succeeded, though their justice and legality were apparent 
enough. In the case of the latter journal — the Weekly 
News — the proprietor raised no legal point whatsoever. 
The, fact was that when he found the Crown, not content 
with one state prosecution against him (that for the 
funeral procession), coming upon him with a second, 
he knew his doom was sealed. He very correctly judged 
that legal moves would be all in vain — that his convic- 
tion per fas ant ncfas was to be obtained — that a jury 
would be packed against him — and that, consequently, the 
briefest and most dignified course for him would be to 
go straight to the conflict and meet it boldly. 

On Monday, 10th February, 1868, the Commission was 
opened in Green-street, Dublin, before Mr. Justice Fitz- 
gerald and Baron Deasy. Soon a cunning and unworthy 
legal trick on the part of the Crown w T as revealed. The 
prosecuted processionists and journalists had been indicted 
in the city venue, and had been returned for trial to the city 
commission by a city jury. But the government at the 
last moment mistrusted a city jury in this instance — even 
a packed city jury — and without any notice to the traver- 
sers, sent the indictments before the county grand jury, so 
that they might be tried by a jury picked and packed 
from the anti-Irish oligarchy of the Pale. It was an act 
of gross illegality, hardship, and oppression. The illegal- 
ity of such a course had been ruled and decided in the case 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 47 

of Mr. Gavan Duffy in 184S. But the point was raised 
vainly now. When Mr. Pigott, of the Irishman, was 
called to plead, his counsel, Mr. Heron, Q. C, insisted 
that he, the traverser, was now in custody of the city 
sheriff in accordance with his recognizances, and could not 
without legal process be removed to the county venue. 
An exciting encounter ensued between Mr. Heron and the 
crown counsel, and the court took till next day to decide 
the point. Next morning it was decided in favor of the 
Crown, and Mr. Pigott was about being arraigned, when, 
in order that he might not be prejudiced by having attended 
pending decision, the Attorney-General said " he would 
shut his eyes to the fact that that gentleman was now in 
court," and would have him called immediately — an 
intimation that Mr. Pigott might, if advised, try the 
course of refusing to appear He did so refuse. When 
next called, Mr. Pigott was not forthcoming, and on the 
police proceeding to his office and residence that gentle- 
man was not to be found — having, as the Attorney-General 
spitefully expressed it, " fled from justice." Mr. Sullivan's 
case, had, of necessity, then to be called ; and this was 
exactly what the Crown had desired to avoid, and what Mr. 
Heron had aimed to secure. It was the secret of all the 
skirmishing.* A very general impression prevailed that 
the Crown would fail in getting a jury to convict Mr. 
Sullivan on any indictment tinctured even ever so faintly 
with u Fenianism • " and it was deemed of great im- 
portance to Mr. Pigott' s case to force the Crown to begin 
with the one in which failure was expected — Mr. Sullivan 
having intimated his perfect willingness to be either 
pushed to the front or kept till the last, according as 
might best promise to secure the discomfiture of the 
government. Mr. Heron had therefore so far out- 
manoeuvred the Crown. Mr. Sullivan appeared in court 
and announced himself ready for trial, and the next 
morning was fixed for his arraignment. Up to this 
moment, that gentleman had expressed his determination 
not only to discard legal points, but to decline ordinary 
professional defence, and to address the jury in his own 
behalf. Now, however, deferring to considerations 



43 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

strongly pressed on him ( set forth in his speech to the 
jury in the funeral procession case), he relinquished this 
resolution ; and, late on the night preceding his trial, 
intrusted to Mr. Heron, Q. C, Mr. Crean, and Mr. Molloy, 
his defence on this first prosecution. 

Next morning, Saturday, 15th February, 1868, the 
trial commenced ; a jury was duly packed by the " stand- 
by" process, and notwithstanding a charge by Justice 
Fitzgerald, which was, on the whole, one of the fairest 
heard in Ireland in a political case for many years, Mr. 
Sullivan was duly convicted of having, by pictures and 
writings in his journal, the Weekly News, seditiously 
brought the Crown and government into hatred and 
contempt. 

The government officials were jubilant. Mr. Pigotfc 
was next arraigned, and, after an exceedingly able de- 
fence by Mr. Heron, was likewise convicted. 

It was now very generally concluded that the govern- 
ment would be satisfied with these convictions, and would 
not proceed with the funeral procession cases. At all 
events, it was universally regarded as certain that Mr. 
Sullivan would not be arraigned on the second or funeral 
procession indictment, as he now stood convicted on the 
other — the press charge. But it was not to be so. Elated 
with their success, the crown officials thought they might 
even discard their doubts of a city jury j and, on Thursday 
morning, 20th February, ] S68, John Martin, Alexander 
M. Sullivan, Thomas Bracken, and J. J. Lalor,* were 
formally arraigned in the city venue. 

It was a scene to be long remembered, that which was 
presented in the Green-street court-house on that Thurs- 
day morning. The dogged vindictiveness of the crown 
officials, in persisting with this second prosecution, 
seemed to have excited intense feeling throughout the 
city, and, long before the proceedings opened, the court 
was crowded in every part with anxious spectators. 

* Dr. Waters, in the interval since his committal on this charge, 
had been arrested, and was now imprisoned, under the Suspension 
of the Habeas Corpus Act. lie was not brought to trial on the 
procession charge. 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 49 

When Mr. Martin entered, accompanied by his brother- 
in-law, Dr. Simpson, and Mr. Ross Todd, and took his 
seat at the traversers' bar, a low murmur of respectful 
sympathy, amounting 1 to applause, ran through the 
building. And surely it was a sight to move the heart 
to see this patriot— this man of pure and stainless life ; 
this man of exalted character, of noble soul, and glorious 
principles — standing once more in that spot where, twenty 
years before, he stood confronting the same foe in the 
same righteous and holy cause — standing once more at 
that bar whence, twenty years before, he was led off, 
manacled, to a felon's doom for the crime of loving 
Ireland ! Many changes had taken place in the interval, 
but over the stern integrity of his soul time had wrought 
no change. He himself seemed to recall at this moment 
his last " trial " scene on this spot, and, as he cast his 
gaze around, one could detect on his calm, thoughtful 
face something of sadness, yet of pride, as memory doubt- 
less pictured the spectacle of twenty years ago. 

Mr. Sullivan, Mr. Bracken, and Mr. Lalor, arrived 
soon after, and immediately after the judges appeared on the 
bench, the proceedings began. 

On their lordships, Mr. Justice Fitzgerald and Mr. Baron Deasy, 
taking their seats upon the bench, Mr. Smartt, deputy clerk of the 
Crown, called upon John Mai tin, Alexander M. Sullivan, James J. 
Lalor, and Thomas Bracken, to come and appear as they were bound 
to do in discharge of their recognizances. 

All the traversers answered. 

Mr. Smartt then proceeded to arraign the traversers under an in- 
dictment charging in the first count: — "That John Martin, John C. 
Waters, James J. Lalor, Alexander M. Sullivan, and Thomas 
Bracken, being malicious, seditious, and ill-disposed persons, and 
intending to disturb the peace and tranquillity of the realm, and to 
excite discontent and disaffection, and to excite the subjects of our 
Lady the Queen, in Ireland, to hatred and dislike of the government, 
the laws, and the administration of the laws of this realm, on the 
8th day of December, in the year of our Lord, 1867, unlawfully did 
assemble and meet together with divers other persons, amounting 
to a large number — to wit, fifteen thousand pei-sons— for the purpose 
of exciting discontent and disaffection, and for the purpose of ex- 
citing her Majesty's subjects in Ireland to hatred of her government 
and the laws of this realm, in contempt of our Lady the Queen, in 
open violation of the laws of this realm, and against the peace of our 
Lady the Queen, her crown and dignity." The second count charged 



50 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

that the defendants intended " to cause it to be believed that the 
three men who had been duly tried, found guilty, and sentenced, 
according to law, for murder, at Manchester, in England, had been 
illegally and unjustly executed ; and to excite hatred, dislike, and 
disaffection against the administration of justice, and the laws of 
this realm, for and in respect of the execution of the said three 
men." A third count charged the publication at the unlawful 
assembly, laid in the first and second counts, of the false and sedi- 
tious words contained in Mr. John Martin's speech. A fourth and 
last count was framed under the Party Processions Act, and charged 
that the defendants " did unlawfully meet, assemble, and parade 
together, and were present at and did join in a procession with 
divers others, and did bear, wear, and have amongst them, in said 
procession, certain emblems and symbols, the display whereof was 
calculated to and did tend to provoke animosity between different 
classes of her Majesty's subjects, against the form of the statute in 
such case made and provided, and against the peace of our Lady the 
Queen, her crown and dignity." 

The traversers severally pleaded not guilty. 

The Attorney-General, the Solicitor-General. Dr. Ball, Q. C. ; Mr. 
Charles Shaw, Q. C. ; Mr. James Murphv, Q. C; Mr. E. H. Owen, 
Q. C, and _ Mr. Edward Beytagh, instructed by Mr. Anderson, 
Crown Solicitor, appeared to prosecute. 

Mr. Martin, Mr. fcullivan,and Mr. Bracken were not professionally 
assisted. 

Mr. Michael T. Crean, instructed by Mr. John T. Scallan, ap- 
peared for Mr. Lalor. 

And now came the critical stage of the case. Would 
the crown pack the jury f The Clerk of the Crown began 
to call the panel, when 

John Keegan was called and ordered to stand by on the part of the 
Crown. 

Mr. Sullivan : —My lord, have I any right to challenge? 

Mr. Justice Fitzgerald :— You have, Mr. Sullivan, for cause. 

Mr. Sullivan : — And can the Crown order a juror to stand by with- 
out a cause assigned ? 

Mr. Justice Fitzgerald :— The Crown has a right to exercise that 
privilege. 

Mr. Sullivan : — Well, I will exercise no challenge, for cause or 
without cause. Let tbe Crown select a jury now as it pleases. 

Subsequently, George M'Cartney was called, and directed to 
stand by. 

Patrick Ryan was also ordered to stand by. 

Mr. Martin :— I protest against this manner of selecting a jury. 
I do so publicly. 

J. J. Lalor: — I also protest against it. 

Thomas Bracken :— And I also. 



TEE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 51 



The sensation produced by this scene embarrassed the 
crown officials not a little. It dragged to light the true 
character of their proceeding. Eventually the following 
twelve gentlemen were suffered by the crown to pass into 
the box as a "jury"* — 

Samuel Eakins, Foreman. Joseph Purser. 
William Downes Griffith. Thomas Paul. 
Edward Gatchell. James Reilly. 

Thomas Maxwell Huttox. Johx George Shiels. 
Maurice Kerr. William O'Brien Smyth. 

William Loxgfield. George Walsh. 

The Solicitor-General, Mr. Harrison, stated the case 
for the prosecution. Next the police repeated their 
evidence — their description of the procession — as given 
before the magistrate, and the government short-hand 
writer proved Mr. Martin's speech. The only witnesses 
now produced, who had not testified at the preliminary 
stage, were a Manchester policeman named Seth Bromley, 
who had been one of the van escort on the day of the 
rescue, and the degraded and infamous crown-spy, 
Corridon. The former — eager as a beagle on the scent 
to run down the prey before him — left the table amidst 
murmurs of derision and indignation evoked by his over- 
eagerness on his direct examination, and his " fencing" 
and evasion on cross-examination. The spy Corridon 
was produced " to prove the existence of the Fenian 
conspiracy." Little notice was taken of him. Mr. Crean 
asked him barely a trivial question or two. Mr. Martin 
and Mr. Sullivan, when asked if they desired to cross- 
examine him, replied silently by gestures of loathing; 
and the wretch left the table — crawled from it — like a 
crippled murderer from the scene of his crime. 

This closed .the case for the Crown, and Mr. Crean, 
counsel for Mr. Lai or, rose to address the jury on behalf 
of his client. His speech was argumentative, terse, 
forcible, and eloquent, and seemed to please and astonish, 
not only the auditors, but the judges themselves, who 

* Not one Catholic was allowed to pass into the box. Every 
Catholic who came to the box was ordered to "stand by." 



52 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

evidently had not looked for so much ability and vigor 
in the young advocate before them. Although the 
speeches of professional advocates do not come within 
the scope of this publication, Mr. Crean's vindication of 
the national color of Ireland — probably the most telling 
passage in his address — has an importance which warrants 
its quotation here : — 

Gentlemen, it is attempted in this case to make the traversers 
amenable under the Party Processions Act, because those in the 
procession wore green ribbons. Gentlemen, this is the first time, 
in the history of Irish .State Prosecutions, which mark the periods 
of gloom and peril in this country, that the wearing of a green rib- 
bon has been formally indicted ; and, I may say, it is no good sign 
of the times that an offence which has been hitherto unknown to 
the law should now crop up for the first time in this year of grace, 
one thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight. Not even in the 
worst days of Lord Castlereagh's ill omened regime was such an 
attempt as this made to degrade the green of Ireland into a party 
color, and to make that, which has long been regarded as a 
national emblem, the symbol of a faction. Gentlemen, there is no 
right-minded or right-hearted man — looking back upon the ruinous 
dissensions and bitter conflicts which have been the curse and bane 
of this country— who will not reprobate any effort to revive and 
perpetuate them. There is no well-disposed man in the community 
who will not condemn and crush those persons — no matter on what 
side they may stand — who make religion, which should be the 
fountain and mother of all peace and blessings, the cause of ran- 
cor and animosity. We have had, unhappily, gentlemen, too 
much of this in Ireland. We have been too long the victims of 
that wayward fate of which the poet wrote, when he said : — 

" Whilst our tyrants join iu hate, 
We never joined in love." 

But, gentlemen, I will ask of you if you ever before heard, until this 
time, that the green of Ireland was the peculiar color of any par- 
ticular sect, creed, or faction, or that any of the people of this 
country wore it as the peculiar emblem of their party, and for the 
purpose of giving annoyance and of offering insult to some other 
portion of their fellow-countrymen. I must say that I never heard 
before that Catholic or Protestant, or Quaker or Moravian, laid 
claim to this color as a symbol of party. I thought all Irishmen, 
no matter what altar they bow r ed before, regarded the green as the 
national color of Ireland. If it is illegal to wear the green, all 
I can say is that the constabulary are guilty of a constant and con- 
tinuing breach of the law. The Lord and the Lady Lieutenant will 
probably appear on next Patrick's Day, decorated with large 
bunches of green shamrock. Many of the highest officials of the 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 53 

government will do the same ; and is it to be thought, for one 
momen t, that they, by wearing this green emblem of Ireland and 
of Irish nationality, are violating the law of the land? Gentlemen, 
it is perfectly absurd to think so. I hope this country has not yet 
so fallen as that it has become a crime to wear the green. I trust 
we have not yet come to that pass of national degradation, that a 
jury of Irishmen can be found so forgetful of their country's dig- 
nity and of their own as to brand with a mark of infamy a color 
which is associated with so many recollections, not of party 
triumphs, but of national glories — not with any sect, or creed, or 
party, but with a nation and a race whose children, whether they 
were the exiled soldiers of a foreign state, or the soldiers of Great 
Britain — whether at Fontenoy or on the plains of Waterloo, or on 
the heights of Fredericksburgh — have nobly vindicated the chivalry 
and fame of Ireland ! It is for them that the green has its true 
meaning. It is to the Irishman in a distant land this emblem is so 
dear, for it is entwined in his memory, not with any miserable fac- 
tion, but with the home and the country which gave him birth. 
I do hope that Irishmen will never be ashamed in this country to 
wear the green ; and I hope an attempt will never again be made in 
an Irish court of justice to punish Irishmen for wearing that which 
is a national color, and of which every man, who values his 
country, should feel proud. 

When Mr. Crean resumed his seat — which he did 
amidst strong manifestations of applause — it was past 
three o'clock in the afternoon. It was not expected that 
the case would have proceeded so far by that hour, and 
Mr. Martin and Mr. Sullivan, who intended each to speak 
in his own behalf, did not expect to rise for that purpose 
before next day, when it was arranged that Mr. Martin 
would speak first, and Mr. Sullivan follow him. Now, 
however, it was necessary some one of them should rise to 
his defence, and Mr. Martin urged that Mr. Sullivan should 
begin. 

By this time the attendance in court, w r hich, during 
the Solicitor- General's speech and the crown evidence, 
thinned down considerably, had once more grown too 
great for the fair capacity of the building. There was a 
crush within, and a crowd without. When Mr. Sullivan 
was seen to rise, after a moment's hurried consultation 
with Mr. Martin, who sat beside him, there was a buzz, 
followed by an anxious silence. For a moment the 
accused paused, almost overcome (as well he might have 
been) by a sense of the responsibility of this novel and 



54 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

dangerous course. But he quickly addressed himself 
to the critical task he had undertaken, and spoke as 
follows : — * 



My lords and gentlemen of the jury : — I rise to address you under 
circumstances of embarrassment which will, I hope, secure for me 
a little consideration and indulgence at yo.r hands. I have to ask 
you at the outset to banish any prejudice that might arise in your 
minds against a man who adopts the singular course — who un- 
dertakes the serious responsibility — of pleading his own defence. 
Such a proceeding might be thought to be dictated either by 
disparagement of the ordinary legal advocacy, by some poor idea 
of personal vanity, or by way of reflection on the tribunal before 
which the defence is made. My conduct is dictated by neither of 
these considerations or influences. Last of all men living should 
I reflect upon the ability, zeal, and fidelity of the Bar of Ireland, 
represented as it has been in my own behalf, within the past two 
days, by a man whose heart and genius are, thank God, stilt left to 
the service of our country, and represented, too, as it has been here 
this day by that gifted young advocate, the echoes of whose 
eloquence still resound in this court, and place me at disadvantage 
in immediately following him. And, assuredly, I design no dis- 
respect to this court ; either to tribunal in the abstract, or to the 
individual judges who preside ; from one of whom I heard two days 
ago, delivered in my own case, a charge of which I shall say— though 
followed by a verdict which already consigns me to prison — that 
it was, judging it as a whole, the fairest, the clearest, the most 
just and impartial ever given, to my knowledge, in a political case 
of this kind in Ireland between the subject and the Crown. No ; 
I stand here in my own defence to-day, because long since I formed 
the opinion that, on many grounds, in such a prosecution as this, 
such a course would be the most fair and most consistent for a man 
like me. That resolution I was, for the sake of others, induced to 
depart from on Saturday last, in the first prosecution against me. 
When it came to be seen that I was the first to be tried out of two 
journalists prosecuted, it was strongly urged on me that my course 
and the result of my trial might largely affect the c?se of the other 
journalists to be tried after me ; and that I ought to waive ray in- 
dividual views and feelings, and have the utmost legal ability 
brought to bear in behalf of the case of the national press at the 
hist point of conflict. I did so. I was defended by a bar not to 
be surpassed in the kingdom for ability and earnest zeal ; yet the 

*As Mr. Sullivan delivered this speech without even the ordinary assistance 
of written notes or memoranda, the report here quoted is that which was pub- 
lished in the newspapers of the time. Some few inaccuracies which he was 
precluded from correcting then (being- a prisoner when this speech was first 
published), have been corrected for this publication. 



THE WEARING OF THE GE.EEN. 55 

result was what I anticipated. For I knew, as I had held all along, 
that, in a case like this, where law and fact are left to the jury, 
le^al ability is of no avail if the Crown comes in with its arbitrary 
power of moulding the jury. In that case, as in this one, I openly, 
publicly, and distinctly announced that I for my part would chal- 
lenge no one, whether with cause or without cause. Yet the Crown 
—in the face of this fact— and in a case where they knew that, at 
least, the accused had no like power of peremptory challenge — did 
not venture to meet me on equal footing — did not venture to abstain 
from their practice of absolute challenge ; in fine, did not dare to 
trust their case to twelve men " indifferently chosen," as the con- 
stitution supposes a jury to be. Now, gentlemen, before I enter 
further upon this jury question, let me say that with me this is no 
complaint merely against " the Tories." On this, as well as on 
numerous other subjects, it is well known that it has been my un- 
fortunate lot to arraign both Whigs and Tories. I say further, that 
I care not a jot whether the twelve men selected or permitted by 
the Crown to try me, or rather to convict me, be twelve of my own 
co-religionists and political compatriots, or twelve Protestants, 
Conservatives, Tories, or "Oiangemen." Understand me clearly 
on this. My objection is not to the individuals comprising the 
jury. You may be all Catholics, or you may be all Protestants, for 
aught that affects my protest, which is against the mode by which 
you are selected — selected by the Crown — their choice for their own 
ends — and not " indifferently chosen" between the Crown and the 
^accused. You may disappoint or you may justify the calculations 
of the crown official who has picked you out from the panel, by 
negative or positive choice ( I being silent and powerless ) — you may 
or may not be all he supposes— the outrage on the spirit of 
the constitution is the same. I say, by such a system of pick- 
ing a jury by the Crown, I am not put upon my country. Gentle- 
men, from the first moment these proceedings were commenced 
against me, I think it will be admitted that I endeavored to meet 
them fairly and squarely, promptly and directly. I have never 
ouce turned to the right or to the left, but gone straight to the 
issue. I have from the outset declared my perfect readiness to meet 
the charges of the Crown. I did not care when or where they tried 
me. I said I would avail of no technicality — that I would object 
to no juror — Catholic, Protestant, or Dissenter. All I asked — 
all I demanded — was to be " put upon my country " in the real, 
fair, and full sense and spirit of the constitution. All I asked was 
that the Crown would keep its hand off the panel, as I would keep 
off mine. I had lived fifteen years in this c ty ; and I should have 
lived in vain, if, amongst the men that knew me in that time, 
whatever might be tl eir political or religious creed, I feared to have 
my acts, my conduct, or principles tried. It is the first and most 
original condition of society that a man shall subordinate his pub- 
lic acts to the welfare of the community, or, at least, acknowledge 
the right of those amongst whom his lot is cast, to judge him on 
such an issue as this. Freely I acknowledged that right. Readily 



56 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 



have I responded to the call to submit to the judgment of my 
country the question whether, in demonstrating my sorrow and 
sympathy for misfortune, my admiration for fortitude, my vehement 
indignation against what I considered to be injustice. I had gone 
too far and invaded the rights of the community. Gentlemen, I 
desire, in all that I have to say, to keep or be kept within what is 
regular and seemly, and above all to utter nothing wanting in re- 
spect for the court ; but I do say, and I do protest, that I have not 
got trial by jury according to the spirit and meaning of the consti- 
tution. It is as representatives of the general community, not as 
representatives of the crown officials, the constitution supposes 
you to sit in that box. If you do not fairly represent the commu- 
nity, and if you are not empanelled indifferently in that sense, you 
are no jury in the spirit of the constitution. I care not how the 
crown practice may be within the technical letter of the law, it 
violates the intent and meaning of the constitution, and it is not 
"trial by jury." Let us suppose the scene removed, say, to 
France. A hundred names are returned on what is called a 
panel by a state functionary for the trial of a journalist charged 
with sedition. The accused is powerless to remove any name 
from the list unless for over-age or non-residence. But the 
imperial prosecutor has' the arbitrary power of ordering as 
many as he pleases to "stand aside." By this means he puts or 
allows on the jury only whomsoever he pleases. He can, before- 
hand, select the twelve, and, by wiping out, if it suits him, the 
eighty-eight other names, put the twelve of his own choosing into 
the box. Can this be called trial by jury? Would not it be the 
same thing, in a more straightforward way, to let the Crown-Solicitor 
send out a policeman and collect twelve well -accredited persons of 
his own mind and opinion? For my own parr, I would prefer this 
plain-dealing, and consider far preferable the more rude but honest 
hostility of a drumhead court-martial (applause in the court). 
Again I say, understand me well, I am objecting to the principle, 
the system, the practice, and not to the twelve gentlemen now 
before me as individuals. Personally, I am confident that, being 
citizens of Dublin, whatever your views or opinions, you are 
honorable and conscientious men. You may have strong preju- 
dices against me or my principles in public life — very likely you 
have ; but I doubt not that, though these may unconsciously tinge 
your judgment and influence your verdict, you will not consciously 
violate the obligations of your oath. And I care not whether the 
Crown, in permitting you to be the twelve, ordered three, or thirteen, 
or thirty others to " stand by" — or whether those thus arbitrarily 
put aside were Catholics or Protestants, Liberals, Conservatives, or 
Nationalists — the moment the Crown put its finger at all on the 
panel, in a case where the accused has no equal right, the essential 
character of the jury was changed, and the spirit of the constitution 
was outraged. And now, what is the charge against, my fellow- 
traversers and myself? The Solicitor-General put it very pithily 
awhile ago when he said our crime was, "glorifying the cause of 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 57 

murder." The story of the Crown is a very terrible, a very startling 
one. It alleges a state of things which could hardly be supposed 
to exist amongst the Thugs of India. It depicts a population so 
hideously depraved that thirty thousand of them in one place, and 
tens of thousands of them in various other places, arrayed themselves 
publicly in procession to honor and glorify murder — to sympathize 
with murderers as murderers. Yes, gentlemen, that is the crown 
case, or they have no case at all — that the funeral procession in 
Dublin, on the 8th December last, was a demonstration of sympathy 
with murder as murder. For you will have noted that never once, 
in his smart narration of the crown story, did Mr. Harrison allow 
even the faintest glimmer to appear of any other possible cotn- 
plexion or construction of our conduct. Why, I could have 
imagined it easy for him not merely to state his own case, but to 
state ours too, and show where we failed, and where his own side 
prevailed. I could easily imagine Mr. Harrison stating our view 
of the matter — and combating it. But he never once dared to 
even mention our case. His whole aim was to hide it from you, 
and to fasten, as best such efforts ot his could fasten, in your minds 
this one miserable refrain — "They glorified the cause of murder 
and assassination." But this is no new trick. It is the old story 
of the maligners of our people. They call the Irish a turbulent, 
riotous, crime-loving, law-hating race. They are forever pointing 
to the unhappy fact— for, gentlemen, it is a fact — that, between the 
Irish people and the laws under which they now live, there is little 
or no sympathy, but bitter estrangement and hostility of feeling or 
of action. Bear with me if I examine this charge, since an under- 
standing of it is necessary in order to judge our conduct on the 8th 
December last. I am driven upon this extent of defence by the 
singular conduct of the Solicitor-General, who, with a temerity which 
he will repent, actually opened the page of Irish history, going 
back upon it just so far as it served his own purpose, and no farther. 
Ah ! fatal hour for my prosecutors when they appealed to history 1 
For, assuredly, that is the tribunal that will vindicate the Irish 
people, and confound those who malign them as sympathizers with 
assassination and glorifiers of murder 

Solicitor-General: — My lord, I must really call upon you — -I deny 
that I ever 

Mr. Justice Fitzgerald* — Proceed, Mr. Sullivan. 

Mr. Sullivan : — My lord, I took down the Solicitor-General's 
words. 1 quote them accurately as he spoke them, and he cannot 
get rid of them now. " Glorifiers of the cause of murder" was 
his designation of my fellow-traversers and myself, and our fifty 
thousand fellow-mourners in the funeral procession ; and before I 
sit down I will make him rue the utterance. Gentlemen of the 
jury, if British law be held in "disesteem*'— as the crown prose- 
cutors phrase it— here in Ireland, there is an explanation for that 
fact other than that supplied by the Solicitor-General, namely, the 
wickedness of seditious persons like myself, and the criminal sym- 
pathies of a people ever ready to '' glorify the cause of murder.'' 



58 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 



Mournful, most mournful, is the lot of that land where the laws are 
not respected — nay, revered by the people. No greater curse could 
Detail a country than to have the laws estranged from popular 
esteem, or in antagonism with the national sentiment. Everything 
goes wrong under such a state of things. The ivy will cling to the 
oak, and the tendrils of the vine reach forth towards strong support. 
But more anxiously and naturally still does the human heart in- 
stinctively seek an object of reverence and love, as well as of protec- 
tion and support, in law, authority, sovereignty. At least, among a 
virtuous people like ours, there is ever a yearning for those relations 
■which are, and ought to be, as natural between a people and their 
government as between the children and the parent. I say for my- 
self, and I firmly believe I speak the sentiments of most Irishmen 
when I say, that, so far from experiencing satisfaction, we experience 
pain in our present relations with the law and governing power ; 
and we long for the day when happier relations may be restored 
between the laws and the national sentiment in Ireland. We Irish are 
no race of assassins or "glorifiers of murder." From the most re- 
mote ages, in all centuries, it has been told of our people that 
they were preeminently a justice-loving people. Two hundred 
and fifty years ago the predecessor of the Solicitor-General — an 
English Attorney-General — it may be necessary to tell the learned 
gentleman that his name was Sir John Davis (for historical as well 
as geographical * knowledge seems to be rather scarce amongst the 
present law-officers of the Crown) (laughter) — held a very different 
opinion of them from that put forth to-day by the Solicitor-General. 
Sir John Davis said no people in the world loved equal justice more 
than the Irish, even where the decision was against themselves. 
That character the Irish have ever borne and bear still. But, if 
you want the explanation of this " disesteein" and hostility for 
British law, you must trace effect to cause. It will not do to stand 
by the river-side near where it flows into the sea, and wonder why 
the water continues to run by. Not I — not my fellow traversers — 
not my fellow-countrymen — are accountable for the antagonism 
between law and popular sentiment in this country. Take up the 
sad story where you will — yesterday, last month, last year, last 
century, two centuries ago, three centuries, five centuries, six 
centuries— and what will you find? English law presenting itself 
to the Irish people in a guise forbidding sympathy or respect, and 
evoking fear and resentment. Take it at its birth in this country. 
Shake your minds free of legal theories and legal fictions, and deal 
with facts. This court where I now stand is the legal and political 
heir, descendant, and representative of the first law-court of the Pale 
six or seven centuries ago. Within that Pale were a few thousand 

* On Mr. Sullivan's first trial the Solicitor- General, until stopped and corrected 
by the court, was sugtfestiiisf tu the jury that there was no such place as Knock- 
rochery, and that a Fenian proclamation which had been published in the 
Weekly News as having been posted at that place, was, in fact, composed in Mr. 
Sullivan's office. Mr. Justice Deasy, however, pointedly corrected and reproved 
this blunder on the part of Mr. Hanison. 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 59 



English settlers, and of them alone did the law take cognizance. 
The Irish nation— the millions outside the Pale — were known only 
as "the King's Irish enemie." The law classed them with the wild 
beasts of nature whom it was lawful to slay. Later on in our history, 
we find the Irish near the Pale sometimes asking to be admitted to 
the benefits of English law, since they were forbidden to have any 
of their own ; but their petitions were refused. Gentlemen, this 
was English law as it stood towards the Irish people for centuries ; 
and wonder, if you will, that the Irish people held it in " dis- 
esteem :" — 

"The Irish were denied the right of bringing actions in any of the Ensrlish 
courts in Ireland for trespasses to their lands or for assaults and batteries to 
their persons. Accordingly, it was answer enough to the action in such a case 
to say that the plaintiff was an Irishman, unless he could produce a special 
charter giving him the rights of an Englishman. If he sought damage against 
an Englishman for turning him out of "his land, for the seduction of his daugh- 
ter Nora, or for the beating of bis wife Devorgil, or for the driving off of his 
cattle, it was a good defence to say he was a mere Irishman. And if an 
Englishman was indicted for manslaughter, if the man slain was an Irishman, 
he pleaded that the deceased was of the Irish nation, and that it was no telony 
to kill an Irishman. For this, however, there was a fine of five marks pay- 
able to the King; but mostly they killed us for nothing. If it happened that 
the man killed was a servant of an Englishman, he added to the plea of the 
deceased being an Irishman, that, if the master should ever demand damages, 
he would be ready to satisfy him." 

That was the egg of English laAV in Ireland. That was the seed — 
that was the plant — do you wonder if the tree is not now esteemed 
and loved ? If you poison a stream at its source, will you marvel 
if down through all its courses the deadly element is present ? Now 
trace from this, its birth, English law in Ireland — trace down to 
this hour — and examine when or where it ever set itself to a recon- 
ciliation with the Irish people. Observe the plain relevancy of this 
to my case. I and men like me are held accountable for bringing 
law into hatred and contempt in Ireland, and, in presenting this 
charge against me, the Solicitor-General appealed to history. I re- 
tort the charge on my accusers, and I will trace down to our own 
day the relations of hostility which English law itself established 
between itself and the people of Ireland. Gentlemen, for four 
hundred years— down to 1607 — the Irish people had no existence 
in the eye of the law ; or rather, much worse, were viewed by it as 
"the King's Irish enemie." But even within the Pale, how did it 
recommend itself to popular reverence and affection? Ah ! gentle- 
men, I will show that in those days, just as there have been in our 
own, there were executions and scaffold- scenes which evoked popu- 
lar horror and resentment, though they were all " according to 
Jaw," and not to be questioned unless by " seditionists.'' The scaffold 
streamed with the blood of those whom the people loved and re- 
vered — how could they love and revere the scaffold? Yet, 'twas 
all " according to law." The sanctuary was profaned and riHed ; 
the priest was slain or banished : 'twas all "according to law," no 
doubt, and to hold law in "disesteem" is "sedition." Men were 



CO THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 



convicted and executed "according to law ;" yet the people demon- 
strated sympathy for them, and x'esentment against their execu- 
tioners — most perversely, as a Solicitor-General, doubtless, would 
say. And, indeed, the state papers contain accounts of those 
demonstrations written by crown officials which sound very like tbe 
Solicitor-General's speech to-day. Take, for instance, the execu- 
tion — "according to law" — of the "popish bishop" O'Hurley. 
Here is the letter of a state. functionary on the subject : — 

" I could not before now so impart to her Majesty as to know her mind touch- 
ing- the same for your lordship's direction. Wherefore she having- at length. 
resolved, I liave, accordingly, by her commandment, to signify her Majesty's 
pleasure unto you touching Hurley, which is this : — That the man being so 
notorious and ill a subject, as appeareth by all the circumstances of his cause he 
is, you proceed, if it may be, to his execution by ordinary trial of him for it. 
How be it, in case you shall find the effect of his course DOUBTFUL by reason of 
the affection of such as shall be on his jury, and by reason of the supposal con- 
ceived by the lawyers of tbat country, that he can hardly be found guilty for 
his treason committed in foreign parts aarainst her Majesty: then her pleasure 
is you take a SHORTER WAY WITH HIM by. martial law. So, as yo"u may see, it is 
referred to your discretion, whether of those two ways your lordship will take 
with him, and the man being so resolute to reveal no more matter, it is thought, 
best to have NO FURTHER TORTURES used against him, but that you proceed 
FORTHWITH TO HIS EXECUTION- in manner aforesaid. As for her Majesty's good 
acceptation of your careful travail in this matter of Hurley, you need nothing to 
doubt, and, for your better assurance thereof, she has commanded me to let your 
lordship understand that, as well as in all others the like, as in the case of 
Hurley, she cannot but greatly allow and commend YOUR DOINGS." 

Well, they put his feet into tin boots filled with oil, and then 
placed him standing in the fire. Eventually they cut off his head, 
tore out his bowels, and cut the limbs from his body. Gentlemen, 
'twas all "according to law;'' and to demonstrate sympathy for 
him and " disesteem" of that law was " sedition." But do you 
wonder greatly that law of that complexion failed to secure popular 
sympathy and respect ? One more illustration, gentlemen, taken 
from a period somewhat later on. It is the execution — " according 
to law," gentlemen, entirely "according to law" — of another 
popish bishop named O'Devany. The account is that of a crown 
official of the time — some most worthy predecessor of the Solicitor- 
General. I read it from the recently published work of tbe Rev. 
C. P. Meehan: — "On the 28th of January, the bishop and priest, 
heing arraigned at the King's Bench, were each condemned of 
treason, and adjudged to be executed the Saturday following ; which 
day being come, a priest or two of the Pope's brood, with holy 
water and other holy stuffs" — (no sneer was that, at all, gentlemen ; 
no sneer at Catholic practices, for a crown official never sneers at 
Catholic practices) — " were sent to sanctify the gallows whereon they 
were to die. About two o'clock P. M., the traitors were delivered 
to the sheriffs of Dublin, who placed them in a small car. which was 
f< llowed by a great multitude. As the car progressed the spectators 
knelt down, but the bishop, sitting still like a block, would not 
vouchsafe them a word, or turn his head aside. The multitude, 
however, followiner the car, made such a dole and lamentation after 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 61 



him, as the heavens themselves resounded the echoes of their 
outcries.'' (Actually a seditions funeral procession — made up of 
the ancestors of those thirty thousand men, women, and children, 
who, according to the Solicitor-General, glorified the cause of murder 
on the 8th of last December.) "Being come to the gallows, 
whither they were followed by troops of the citizens, men and 
women of all classes, most of the best being present, the latter kept 
up such a shrieking, such a howling, and such a hallooing, as if St. 
Patrick himself had been gone to the gallows, could not have made 
greater signs of grief; but when they saw him turned from off the 
gallows, they raised the whobub with such a maine cry, as if the 
rebels had come to rifle the city. Being ready to mount the ladder, 
when he was pressed by some of the bystanders to speak, he re- 
peated frequently, Sine me quceso. The executioners had no sooner 
taken off the bishop's head, but the townsmen of Dublin began to 
flock about him, some taking up the head with pitying aspect, ac- 
companied with sobs and sighs ; some kissed it with as religious an 
appetite as ever they kissed the Pax ; some cut away all the hair 
from the head, which they preserved for a relic ; some others were 
practisers to steal the head away, but the executioner gave notice 
to the sheriffs. Now, when he begau to quarter the body, the 
women thronged about him, and happy was she that could get but 
her handkerchief dipped in the blood of the traitor ; and the body 
being once dissevered in four quarters, they neither left finger nor 
toe, but they cut them off and carried them away ; and some 
others that could get no holy monuments that appertained to his 
person, with their knives they shaved off chips from the hallowed 
gallows ; neither could they omit the halter wherewith he was 
hanged, but it was rescued for holy uses. The same night after 
the execution, a great crowd flocked about the gallows, and there 
spent the fore part of the night in heathenish howling, and 
performing many popish ceremonies ; and after midnight, being 
then Candlemas- day, in the morning having their priest present 
in readiness, they had Mass after Mass till, daylight being come, 
they departed to their own houses." There was "sympathy with 
sedition" for you, gentlemen. No wonder the crown official who 
tells the story — some worthy predecessor of Mr. Harrison — should 
be horrified at such a demonstration. I will sadden you with no 
further illustrations of English law, but I think it would be admitted 
that, after centuries of such law, one need not wonder if the 
people hold it in "hatred and contempt." With the open- 
ing of the seventeenth century, however, came a golden and 
glorious opportunity for ending that melancholy — that terrible 
state of things. In the reign of James I, English law, for the 
first time, extended to every corner of this kingdom. The Irish 
came into the new order of things frankly and in good faith ; and 
if wise counsels prevailed then amongst our rulers, oh, what a 
blessed ending there might have been to the bloody feud of cen- 
turies ! The Irish submitted to the Gaelic King, to whom had come 
the English crown. In their eyes he was of a friendly, nay, of a 



62 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

kindred race. He was of a line of Gaelic Kings that had often be- 
friended Ireland. Submitting to him was not yielding to the 
brutal Tudor. Yes, that was the hour, the blessed opportunity for 
laying the foundation of a real union between the three king- 
doms : a union of equal national rights under the one crown. This 
was what the Irish expected ; and in this sense they, in that hour, 
accepted the new dynasty. And it is remarkable that, from that 
day to this, though England has seen bloody revolutions and violent 
changes of rulers. Ireland has ever held faithfully — too faithfully 
— to the sovereignty thus adopted. But how were they received ? 
How were their expectations met? By persecution, proscription, 
and wholesale plunder, even by that miserable Stuart. His bod 
came to the throne. Disaffection broke out in England and 
Scotland. Scottish Protestant Fenians, called " Covenanters," 
took the field against him, because of the attempt to establish Epis- 
copalian Protestantism as a state church. By armed rebellion 
against their lawful king, I regret to say it, they won rights which 
now most largely tend to make Scotland contented and loyal. I 
say it is to be regretted that those rights were thus won ; for I say 
that, even at best, it is a good largely mixed with evil where rights 
are won by resort to violence or revolution. His concessions to 
the Calvinist Fenians in Scotland did not save Charles. The 
English Fenians, under their Head Centre Cromwell, drove him 
from the throne, and murdered him on a scaffold in London. How 
did the Irish meanwhile act? They stood true to their allegiance. 
They took the field for the King. What was the result? They 
were given over to slaughter and plunder by the brutal soldiery of 
the English Fenians. Their nobles and gentry were beggared and 
proscribed ; their children were sold as white slaves to West 
Indian planters ; and their gallant struggles for the King, their 
sympathy for the royalist cause, was actually denounced by the 
English Fenians as "sedition," "rebellion," "lawlessness," 
"sympathy with crime." Ah ! gentlemen, the evils thus planted in 
our midst will survive, and work their influence ; yet some men 
wonder the English law is held in "disesteem" in Ireland. Time 
went on, gentlemen ; time went on. Another James sat on the 
throne ; and again English Protestant Fenianism conspired for the 
overthrow of their sovereign. They invited "foreign emissaries" to 
come over from Holland and Sweden to begin the revolution for 
them. They drove their legitimate King from the throne — never 
more to return. How did the Irish act in that hour? Alas! Ever 
too loyal— ever only too ready to stand by the throne and laws, if 
only treated with justice or kindliness — they took the field for the 
King, not against him. He landed on our shores ; and had the 
English Fenians rested content with rebelling themselves, and al- 
lowed us to remain loyal as we desired to be, we might now be a 
neighboring but friendly and independent kingdom under the 
ancient Stuart line. King James came here and opened his Irish 
parliament in person. Oh, who will say in that brief hour, at least, 
the Irish nation was not reconciled to the throne and laws? King, 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 63 



parliament, and people, were blended in one element of enthusiasm, 
joy and hope, the first time for ages Ireland had known such a joy. 



" We, too, had our day — it was brief, it is ended — • 

When a King dwelt among us — no strange Kiug — but OUBS; 
When the shout of a people delivered ascended, 

And shook the green banner that hung on yon towers. 
We saw it like leaves in the summer time shiver; 

We read the gold legend that blazoned it o'er — 
'To-day — now or never ; to-day and forever' — 

O God ! have we seen it to see it no more?" 

(Applause in court.) Once more the Irish people bled and sacri- 
ficed- for their loyalty to the throne and laws. Once more confis- 
cation devastated the land, and the blood of the loyal and true was 
poured like rain. The English Fenians and the foreign emissaries 
triumphed, aided by the brave Protestant rebels of Ulster. King 
William came to the throne — a prince whose character is greatly 
misunderstood in Ireland: a brave, courageous soldier, and a 
tolerant man, could he have had his way. The Irish who had fought 
and lost, submitted on terms; and had law even now been just or 
tolerant, it was open to the revolutionary regime to have made the 
Irish good subjects. But what took place? The penal code came, 
in all its horror, to fill the Irish heart with hatred and resistance. 
I will read for you what a Protestant historian — a man of learning 
and ability — who is now listening to me in this court — has written 
of that code. I quote ''Godkin's History,*' published by Cassell of 
London: — 

"The eighteenth century," says Mr. Godkin, "was the era of persecution, in 
which the law did the work of the sword more effectually and more safely. 
Then was established a code framed with almost diabolical ingenuity to ex- 
tinguish natural affection — to foster perfidy and hypocrisy - to petrity conscience 
— to perpetuate brutal ignorance — to facilitate the work of tyranny— by render- 
ing the vices of slavery inherent and natural in the Irish character, aud to make 
Protestantism aim est irredeemably odious as the monstrous incarnation of all 
moral pei versions." 

Gentlemen, in that fell spirit English law addressed itself to a 
dreadful purpose here in Irelaud ; and, mark you, that code pre- 
vailed down to our own time — down to this very generation. 
"Law" called on the son to sell his father ; called on the flock to 
betray the pastor. "Law" forbade us to educate — forbade us to 
worship God in the faith of our fathers. "Law" made us outcasts, 
scourged us, trampled us, plundered us — do you marvel that, 
amongst the Irish people, law has been held in "disesteem"? Do 
you think this feeling arises from "sympathy with assassination 
or murder"? Yet, if we had been let alone, I doubt not that time 
would nave fused the conquerors and the conquered, here in Ireland 
as elsewhere. Even while the millions of the people were kept outside 
the constitution, the spirit of nationality began to appear and under 
its blessed influence toleration touched the heart of the Irish-born 



64 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

Protestant. Yes, thank God — thank God, for the sake of our poor 
country, where sectarian bitterness has wrought such wrong — it 
was an Irish Protestant parliament that struck off the first link of 
the penal chain. And lo ! once more, for a bright brief day, Irish 
national sentiment was in warm sympathy aud heart-felt accord with 
the laws. "Eighty-two " came. Irish Protestant patriotism, backed 
by the hearty sympathy of the Catholic millions, raised up Ireland to 
a proud and glorious position; lifted our country from the ground, 
where she lay prostrate UDder the sword of England — but what do I 
say? This is "sedition." It has this week been decreed sedition to 
picture Ireland thus. * Well, then they rescued her from what I will 
call the loving embrace of her dear sister Britannia, aud enthroned 
her in her rightful place, a queen among the nations. Had the bright- 
ness of that era been prolonged — picture it, think of it — what a 
country would ours be now ! Think of it ! And contrast what we are 
with what we might be ! Compare a population, filled with burning 
memories — disaffected, sullen, hostile, vengeful — with a people 
loyal, devoted, happy, contented; and England, too, all the hap- 
pier, the more secure, the more great and free. But sad is the 
story. Our independent national legislature was torn from us by 
means, the iniquity of which, even among English writers, is now 
proclaimed and execrated. By fraud and by force that outrage on 
law, on right, and justice, was consummated. In speaking thus I 
speak " sedition." No one can write the facts of Irish history 
without committing sedition. Yet every writer aud speaker now 
will tell you that the overthrow of our national constitution, sixty- 
seven years ago, was an iniquitous and revolting scheme. But do 
you, then, marvel that the laws imposed on us by the power that 
perpetrated that deed are not revered, loved, and respected? Do 
you believe that that want of respect arises from the " seditions" 
of men like my fellow-traversers and myself? Is it wonderful to 
see estrangement between a people and laws imposed on them by 
the over-ruling influence of another nation? Look at the lessons — 
unhappy lessons — taught our people by that London legislature 
where their own will is overborne. Concessions refused and re- 
sisted as long as they durst be withheld ; and when granted at all, 
granted only after passion has been aroused and the whole nation 
been embittered. The Irish people sought Emancipation. Their 
great leader was dogged at every step by hostile government procla- 
mations and crown prosecutions. Coercion act over coercion act was 
rained upon us; yet O'Connell triumphed. But how and in what 
spirit was Emancipation granted? Ah! there never was a speech 
more pregnant with mischief, with sedition, with revolutionary 
teaching — never words tended more to bring law and government 
into contempt — than the words of the English premier when he de- 
clared Emancipation must, sorely against his will, be granted if 

*For publishing an illustration in the Weekly News thus picturing England's 
policy of coercion, Mr. Sullivan had been found guilty of seditious libel on the 
previous trial. 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 65 



England would not face a civil war. That was a bad lesson to 
teach Irishmen. Worse still was taught them. O'Connell, the 
great constitutional leader, a man with whom loyalty and respect 
for the laws was a fundamental principle of action, led the people 
towards further liberation — the liberation, not of a creed, but a 
nation. What did he seek? To bring once more the laws and the 
national will into accord; to reconcile the people and the laws by 
restoring the constitution of Queen, Lords, and Commons. How 
was he met by the government? By the flourish of the sword; 
by the drawn sabre and the shotted gun, in the market-place aud 
the highway. " Law " finally grasped him as a conspirator, and a 
picked jury gave the Crown then, as now, such verdict as was re- 
quired. The venerable apostle of constitutional doctrine was con- 
signed to prison, while a sorrowing, aye, a maddened nation wept 
for him outside. Do you marvel that they held in " disesteem " the 
law and government that acted thus ? Do you marvel that to-day, 
in Ireland, as in every century of all those through which I have 
traced this state of things, the people and the law scowl upon each 
other? Gentlemen, do not misunderstand the purport of my argu- 
ment. It is not for the purpose — it would be censurable — of merely 
opening the wounds of the past that I have gone back upon history 
somewhat farther than the Solicitor-General found it advantageous 
to go. I have done it to demonstrate that there is a truer reason 
than that alleged by the Crown in this case for the state of war — 
for, unhappily, that is what it is— which prevails between the people 
of Ireland and the laws under which they now live. And now 
apply all this to the present case, and judge you my guilt — judge 
you the guilt of those whose crime, indeed, is that they do not 
love and respect law and government as they are now administered 
in Ireland. Gentlemen, the present prosecution arises directly out 
of what is known as the Manchester tragedy. The Solicitor-General 
gave you his version, his fanciful sketch, of that sad affair ; but it 
will be my duty to give you the true facts, which differ considerably 
from the crown story. The Solicitor-General began with telling us 
about "the broad summer's sun of the 18th September" (laughter). 
Gentlemen, it seems very clear that the summer goes far into the 
year for those who enjoy the sweets of office; nay, I am sure it is 
summer "all the year round" with the Solicitor-General while the 
present ministry remain in. A goodly golden harvest he and his 
colleagues are making in this summer of prosecutions ; and they 
seem very well inclined to get up enough of them (laughter). Well, 
gentlemen, I'm not complaining of that, but I will tell you who 
complain loudly — the "outs," with whom it is midwinter, while 
the Solicitor-General and his friends are enjoying this summer (re- 
newed laughter). Well, gentlemen, some time, last September, two 
prominent leaders of the Fenian movement — alleged to be so at 
least — named Kelly and Deasy, were arrested in Manchester. In 
Manchester there is a considerable Irish population, and amongst 
them it was known those men had sympathizers. They were brought 
up at the police court — and now, gentlemen, pray attentively mark 



6G 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 






this. The Irish executive that morning telegraphed to the Man- 
chester authorities a strong warning of an attempted rescue. The 
Manchester police had full notice — how did they trea*, the timely 
warning sent from Dublin — a warning which, if heeded, would have 
averted all this sad and terrible business which followed upon that 
day? Gentlemen, the Manchester police authorities scoffed at the 
warning. They derided it as a u Hirish " alarm. What! The 
idea of low "Hirish" hodmen or laborers rescuing prisoners from 
them, the valiant and the brave! Why, gentlemen, the Seth 
Bromleys of the '•force" in Manchester waxed hilarious and de- 
risive over the idea. They would not ask even a truncheon to put 
to flight even a thousand of those despised " Hirish;" and so, 
despite specific warning from Dublin, the van containing the two 
Fenian leaders, guarded by eleven police officers, set out from the 
police office to the jail. Now, gentlemen, I charge on the stolid 
vaingloriousness in the first instance, and the contemptible pusill- 
animity in the second instance, of the Manchester police — the 
valiant Seth Bromleys — all that followed. On the skirts of the 
city the van was attacked by some eighteen Irish youths, having 
three revolvers — three revolvers, gentlemen, and no more — amongst 
them. The valor of the Manchester eleven vanished at the sight, 
of those three revolvers — some of them, it seems, loaded with blank 
cartridge ! The Seth Bromleys took to their heels. They aban- 
doned the van. Now, gentlemen, do not understand me to call 
those policemen cowards. It is hard to blame an unarmed man who 
rims away from a pointed revolver, which, whether loaded or un- 
loaded, is a powerful persuasion to — depart. But I do say that I 
believe in my soul that, if that had occurred here in Dublin, eleven 
men of our metropolitan police would have taken those three re- 
volvers or perished in the attempt (applause). Oh, if eleven Irish 
policemen had run away like that from a few poor English lads with 
barely three revolvers, how the press of England would yell in fierce 
denunciation — why, they would trample to scorn the name of Irish- 
man — (applause in the court, which the officials vainly tried to 
silence). 

Mr. Justice Fitzgerald: — If these interruptions continue, the parties 
so offending must be removed. 

Mr. Sullivan: — I am sorry, my lord, for the interruption ; though 
not sorry the people should endorse my estimate of the police. 
Well, gentlemen, the van was abandoned by its valiant guard ; but 
there remained inside one brave and faithful fellow, Brett by name. 
I am now giving you the facts as I in my conscience and soul be- 
lieve they occurred — and as millions of my countrymen — aye, and 
thousands of Englishmen, too — solemnly believe them to have 
occurred, though they differ in one item widely from the crown 
version. Brett refused to give up the key of the van which he 
held ; and the attacking party commenced various endeavors to 
break it open. At length one of them called out to fire a pistol 
into the lock, and thus burst it open. The unfortunate Brett at 
that moment was looking through the keyhole, endeavoring to get 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 67 

a view of the inexplicable scene outside, when he received the 
bullet and fell dead. Gentlemen, that may be the true, or it may 
be the mistaken version. You may hold to the other, or you may 
hold to this. But whether I be mistaken therein or otherwise, I 
say here, as I would say if I stood now before my eternal Judge 
on the Last Day, I solemnly believe the mournful episode to have 
happened thus — I solemnly believe that the man Brett was shot by 
accident, and not by design. But even suppose your view diifers 
sincerely from mine, will you, can you, hold that I, thus conscieu- 
tiously persuaded, sympathize with murder, because I sympathize 
with men hanged for that which I contend was accident, and not 
murder"? That is exactly the issue in this case. Well, the rescued 
Fenian leaders got away ; and then, when all was over — when the 
danger was passed — valor tremendous returned to the fleet-of-foot 
Manchester police. Oh, but they wreaked their vengeance that 
night on the houses of the poor Irish in Manchester! By a savage 
razzia they soon filled the jails with our poor countrymen seized on 
suspicion. And then broke forth all over England that shout of 
anger and passion which none of us will ever forget. The national 
piide had been sorely wounded ; the national power had been 
openly and humiliatingly defied ; the national fury was aroused. 
Oil all sides resounded the hoarse shout for vengeance, swift and 
strong. Then was seen a sight the most shameful of its kind that 
this century has exhibited — a sight at thought of which English- 
men yet will hang their heads for shame, and which the English 
historian will chronicle with reddened cheek — those poor and 
humble Irish youths led into the Manchester dock in chains! In 
chains! Yes ; iron fetters festering wrist and ankle ! Ob ! gentle- 
men, it was a fearful sight : for no one can pretend that in the 
heart of powerful England there couid be danger those poor Irish 
youths would overcome the authorities and capture Manchester. 
For what, then, were those chains put on untried prisoners? 
Gentlemen, it was at this point exactly that Irish sympathy came 
to the side of those prisoners. It was when we saw them thus 
used, and saw that, innocent or guilty, they would be immolated — 
sacrificed to glut the passion of the hour — that our feelings rose 
high and strong in their behalf. Even in England there were men 
— noble-hearted Englishmen, for England is never without such 
men — who saw that, if tried in the midst of this national frenzy, 
those victims would be sacrificed ; and accordingly efforts were 
made for a postponement of the trial. But the roar of passion 
earned its way. Not even till the ordinary assizes would the trial 
be postponed. A special commission was sped to do the work while 
Manchester jurors were in a white heat of panic, indignation, and 
fury. Then came the trial, which was just what might be expected. 
Witnesses swore ahead without compunction, and jurors believed 
them without hesitation. Five men arraigned together as prin- 
cipals—Allen, Larkin, O'Brien, Shore, and Maguire — were found 
guilty, and, the judge concurring in the verdict, were sentenced to 
death. Five men — not three men, gentlemen — five men in the 



68 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

one verdict, not five separate verdicts. Five men by the same 
evidence and the same jury in the same verdict. Was that a just 
verdict? The case of the Crown here to-day is that it was — that it 
is "sedition" to impeach that verdict. A copy of that conviction 
is handed in here as evidence to convict me of sedition for charging, 
as I do, that that was a wrong verdict, a bad verdict, a rotten and 
a false verdict. But what is the fact? That her Majesty's minis- 
ters themselves admit and proclaim that it was a wrong verdict, a 
false verdict. The very evening those men were sentenced, thirty 
newspaper reporters sent up to the Home Secretary a petition pro- 
testing that — the evidence of the witnesses and the verdict of the 
jury notwithstanding — there was at least one innocent man thus 
marked for execution. The government felt that the reporters 
were right and the jurors wrong. They pardoned Maguire as an 
innocent man — that same Maguire whose legal conviction is here 
put in as evidence that he and four others were truly murderers, to 
sympathize with whom is to commit sedition— nay, " to glorify the 
cause of murder." Well, after that, our minds were easy. We 
considered it out of the question any man would be hanged on a 
verdict thus ruined, blasted, and abandoned ; and believing those 
men innocent of murder, though guilty of another most serious 
legal crime — rescue with violence, and incidental, though not in- 
tentional loss of life — we rejoiced that a terrible mistake was, as we 
thought, averted. But now arose in redoubled fury the savage cry 
for blood. In vain, good men, noble and humane men, in England 
tried to save the national honor by breasting this horrible out- 
burst of passion. They were overborne. Petitioners for mercy 
were mobbed and hooted in the streets. We saw all this — we saw 
all this ; and think you it did not sink into our hearts? Fancy, if 
you can, our feelings when we heard that yet another man out of five 
was respited — ah ! he was an American gentleman — an American, 
not an Irishman — but that the three Irishmen, Allen, Larkin, and 
O'Brien, were to die — were to be put to death on a verdict and on 
evidence that would not hang a dog in England ! We refused to 
the last to credit it; and thus incredulous, deemed it idle to tnake 
any effort to save their lives. But it was true ; it was deadly true. 
And then, gentlemen, the doomed three appeared in a new charac- 
ter. Then they rose into the dignity and heroism of martyrs. 
The manner in which they bore themselves through the dreadful 
ordeal ennobled them forever. It was then we all learned to love 
and revere them as patriots and Christians. Oh ! gentlemen, it is 
only at this point I feel my difficulty in addressing you whose 
religious faith is not that which is mine. For it is only Catholics 
who can understand the emotions aroused in Catholic hearts by 
conduct such as theirs in that dreadful hour. Catholics alone can 
understand how the last solemn declarations of such men, after 
receiving the last sacraments of the Church, and about to meet their 
great Judge face to face, can outweigh the reckless evidence of 
Manchester thieves and pickpockets. Yes ; in that hour they told 
us they were innocent, but were ready to die ; and we believed 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 69 

them. We believe them still. Aye, do we ! They did not go 
to meet their God with a falsehood on their lips. On that 
night before their execution, oh, what a scene ! What a picture 
did England present at the foot of the Manchester scaffold! The 
brutal populace thronged thither in tens of thousands. They 
danced ; they sang ; they blasphemed : they chorused " Rule 
Britannia/' and "God save the Queen," by way of taunt and de- 
fiance of the men whose death agonies they had come to see ! Their 
shouts and brutal cries disturbed the doomed victims inside the 
prison as in their cells they prepared in prayer and meditation to 
meet their Creator and their God. Twice the police had to remove 
the crowd from around that wing of the prison ; so that our poor 
brothers might in peace go through their last preparations for eter- 
nity, undisturbed by the yells of the multitude outside. Oh, gentle- 
men, gentlemen — that scene! That scene in the grey cold morn- 
ing when those innocent men were led out to die — to die an igno- 
minious death before the wolfish mob ! With blood on fire — with 
bursting hearts — we read the dreadful story here in Ireland. We 
knew that these men would never have been thus sacrificed had not 
their offence been political, and had it not been that in their own 
way they represented the old struggle of the Irish race. We felt 
that, if time had but been permitted for English passion to cool down, 
English good feeling and right justice would have prevailed ; and 
they never would have been put to death on such a verdict. All thia 
we felt, yet we were silent till we heard the press, that had hounded 
those men to death, falsely declaring that our silence was acquiescence 
in the deed that consigned them to murderers' graves. Of this I 
have peisonal knowledge, that, here in Dublin at least, nothing was 
done or intended, until the Evening Mail declared that popular 
feeling, which had had ample time to declare itself, if it felt other- 
wise, quite recognized the justice of the execution. Then we re- 
solved to make answer. Then Ireland made answer. For what 
monarch, the loftiest in the world, would such demonstrations be 
made, the voluntary offerings of a people's grief? Think you it was 
" sympathy for murder" called us forth, or caused the priests of 
the Catholic Church to drape their churches? It is a libel to utter 
the base charge. No, no. Of the acts of those men at that 
rescue we had naught to say. Of their innocence of murder we 
were convinced. Their patriotic feelings, their religious devotion, 
we saw proved in the noble, the edifying manner of their death. 
We believed them to have been unjustly sacrificed in a moment of 
national passion ; and we resolved to rescue their memory from the 
foul stains of their maligners, and make it a proud one forever with 
Irishmen. Sympathy with murder, indeed! What lam about to 
say will be believed — for I think I have shown no fear of conse- 
quences in standing by my acts and principles : I say for myself, 
and for the priests and people of Ireland, who are affected by this 
case, that sooner would we burn our right hands to cinders than 
express, directly or indirectly, sympathy with murder;, and that 
our sympathy for Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien is based upon the 



70 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

conviction that they were innocent of any such crime. Gentlemen, 
having regard to all the circumstances of this sad business, having 
regard to the feelings under which we acted, think you, is it a true 
charge that we had for our intent and object the bringing of the 
administration of justice into contempt ? Does a man, by protesting, 
ever so vehemently, against an act of a not infallible tribunal, incur 
the charge of attempting its overthrow ? What evidence can be 
shown to you that we uttered a word against the general character 
of the administration of justice in this country, while denouncing 
this particular proceeding, which we say was a fearful failure of 
justice — a horrible blunder, a terrible act of passion ! None — 
none. I say, for myself, I sincerely believe that in this country 
of ours justice is administered by the judges of the Irish Bench 
with a purity and impartiality between man and man not to he sur- 
passed in the universal world. Let me not be thought to cast 
reflection on this court, or the learned judges before whom I now 
stand, if I except in a certain sense, and on some occasions, political 
trials between the subject and the Crown. Apart from this, I 
fearlessly say the bench of justice in Ireland fully enjoys, and is 
worthy of, respect and homage. I care not from what political 
party its members be drawn, I say that, with hardly an exception, 
when robed with the ermine, they become dead to the world of 
politics, and sink the politician in the loftier character of represen- 
tative of sacred Justice. Yet, gentlemen, holding those views, I 
would, nevertheless, protest against and denounce such a trial as that 
in Manchester, if it had taken place in Ireland. For, what we 
contend is that the men in Manchester would never have been found 
guilty on such evidence, would never have been executed on such a 
verdict, if time had been given to let panic and passion pass away — 
time to let English good sense and calm reason and sense of justice 
have sway. Now, gentlemen, judge ye me on this whole case; for 
I have done. I have spoken at great length, but I plead not merely 
my own cause, but the cause of my country. For myself I care 
little. I stand before you here with the manacles, I might say, on 
my hands. Already a prison cell awaits me in Kilmainham. My 
doom, in any event, is sealed. Already a conviction has been 
obtained against me for my opinions on this same event; for it is not 
one arrow alone that has been shot from the crown-office quiver at 
me — at my reputation, my property, my liberty. In a few hours 
more my voice will be silenced; but, before the world is shut out 
from me for a term, I appeal to your verdict — to the verdict of my 
fellow-citizens — of my fellow-countrymen — to judge my life, my 
conduct, my acts, my principles, and say am I a criminal. Sedition, 
in a rightly ordered community, is indeed a crime. But who is it 
that challenges me 1 Who is it that demands my loyalty ? Who is 
it that calls out to me, "O ingrate son ! where is the filial affection, 
the respect, the obedience, the support, that is my due 1 Unnatural, 
Feditious, and rebellious child, a dungeon shall punish your crime!" 
I look in the face of ray accuser, who thus holds me to the duty of 
a son. I turn to see if there I can recognize the features of that 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 71 

mother, whom indeed I love, my own dear Ireland. I look into 
that accusing face, and there I see a scowl, and not a smile. I miss 
the soft, fond voice, the tender clasp, the loving word. I look upon 
the hands reached out to grasp me — to punish me; and lo ! great 
stains, blood-red, upon those hands; and my sad heart tells me it is 
the blood of my widowed mother. Ireland. Then I answer to my 
accuser — "You have no claim on me — on my love, my duty, my 
allegiance. You are not my mother. You sit indeed in the place 
where she should reign. You wear the regal garments torn from 
her limbs, while she now sits in the dust, uncrowned and overthrown, 
and bleeding from many a wound. But my heart is with her still. Her 
claim alone is recognized by me. She still commands my love, my 
duty, my allegiance; and whatever the penalty may be, be it prison, 
chains, be it exile or death, to her I will be true" (applause). Bur, 
gentlemen of the jury, what is that Irish nation to which my allegi- 
ance turns ? Do 1 thereby mean a party, or a class or creed ? Do 
I mean only those who think and feel as I do on public questions? 
Oh, no. It is the whole people of this land — the nobles, the 
peasants, the clergy, the merchants, the gentry, the traders, the 
professions— the Catholic, the Protestant, the Dissenter. Yes, I am 
loyal to all that a good and patriotic citizen should be loyal to; I 
am ready, not merely to obey, but to support with heart-felt alle- 
giance, the constitution of my own country — the Queen, as Queen of 
Ireland, and the free parliament of Ireland once more reconstituted 
in our national senate-house in College-green. And reconstituted 
once more it will be. In that hour the laws will again be reconciled 
with the national feeling and popular reverence. In that hour there 
will be no more disesteem, or hatred or contempt for the laws : for, 
howsoever a people may dislike and resent laws imposed upon them 
against their will by a subjugating power, no nation disesteems the 
laws of its own making. That day, that blessed day, of peace and 
reconciliation, and joy, and liberty, I hope to see. And when it 
comes, as come it will, in that hour it will be remembered for me 
that I stood here to face the trying ordeal, ready to suffer for my 
country — walking with bared feet over red-hot ploughshares like the 
victims of old. Yes; in that day it will be remembered for me, 
though a prison awaits me now, that I was one of those journalists 
of the people who, through constant sacrifice and self-immolation, 
fought the battle of the people, and won every vestige of liberty 
remaining in the land. (As Mr. Sullivan resumed his seat, the 
entire audience burst into applause, again and again renewed, 
despite all efforts at repression.) 

The effect of this speech, certainly, was very consider- 
able. Mr. Sullivan spoke for upwards of two hours and 
forty minutes, or until nearly a quarter past six o'clock. 
During the delivery of his address, twilight had succeeded 
daylight ; the court attendants, later still, with silent steps 
and taper in hand, stole around and lit the chandcdiers, 



72 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

whose glare upon the thousand anxious faces below 
seemed to lend a still more impressive aspect to the 
scene. The painful idea of the speaker's peril, which 
was all-apparent at first amongst the densely -packed 
audience, seemed to fade away by degrees, giving place 
to a feeling of triumph, as they listened to the historical 
narrative of British misrule in Ireland, by which Irish 
u disesteem" for British law was explained and justified, 
and later on to the story of the Manchester tragedy by 
which Irish sympathy with the martyrs was completely 
vindicated. Again and again, in the course of the speech, 
they burst into applause, regardless of threatened penalties; 
and, at the close, gave vent to their feelings in a manner 
that for a time defied all repression. 

When silence was restored, the court was formally ad- 
journed to next day, Friday, at 10 o'clock, A. M. 

The morning came, and with it another throng; for it 
was known Mr. Martin would now speak in his turn. 
In order, however, that his speech, which was sure to bo 
an important one, might close the case against the Crown, 
Mr. Bracken, on the court resuming, put in his defence 
very effectively as follows : — 

My lords : — I would say a word or two, but, after Mr. Sullivan's 
grand and noble speech of last evening, I think it now needless on 
my part. I went to the procession of the 8th December, assured 
that it was right from reading a speech of the Earl of Derby in the 
newspapers. There was a sitting of the Privy Council in Dublin on 
the day before, and I sat in my shop that night till twelve o'clock, 
to see if the procession would be forbidden by government. They, 
however, permitted it to take place, and I attended it, fully believ- 
ing I was right. That is all I have to say. 

This short speech, delivered in a clear, musical, and 
manly voice, put the whole case against the Crown in a 
nutshell. The appearance of the speaker too — a fine, 
handsome, robust, and well-built man, in the prime of 
life, with the unmistakable stamp of honest sincerity on 
his countenance and in his eye — gave his words greater 
effect with the audience ; and it was very audibly mur- 
mured on all sides that he had given the government a 
home-thrust in his brief but telling speech. 



THE WEARING .OF THE GREEN. 73 

Then Mr. Martin rose. After leaving court the pre- 
vious evening, he had decided to commit to writing what 
he intended to say j and he now read from manuscript 
his address to the jury. The speech, however, lost 
nothing in effect by this ; for any auditor, out of view, 
would have believed it to have been spoken, as he usually 
speaks extempore, so admirably was it delivered. Mr. 
Martin said : — 

My lords and gentlemen of the jury : — I am going to trouble this 
court with some reply to the charge made against me in this in- 
dictment. But I am sorry that I must begin by protesting that I 
do not consider myself as being now put upon my country to be 
tried as the constitution directs— as the spirit of the constitution 
inquires — and, therefore, I do not address you for my legal defence, 
but for my vindication before the tribunal of conscience — a far 
more awful tribunal, to my mind, than this. Gentlemen, I regard 
you as twelve of my fellow-countrymen, known or believed by my 
prosecutors to be my political opponents, and selected for that 
reason for the purpose of obtaining a conviction against me in form 
of law. Gentlemen, I have not the smallest purpose of casting an 
imputation against your honesty or the honesty of my prosecutors 
who have selected you. This is a political trial, and in this country 
political trials are always conducted in this way. It is considered 
by the crown prosecutors to be their duty to exclude from the jury- 
box every juror known or suspected to hold or agree with the 
accused in political sentiments. Now, gentlemen, I have not the 
least objection to see men of the most opposite political sentiments 
to mine placed in the jury-box to try me, provided they be placed 
there as the constitution commands— provided they are twelve of 
my neighbors indifferently chosen. As a loyal citizen I am willing 
aud desirous to be put upon ray country, and fairly tried before 
any twelve of my countrymen, no matter what may happen to be 
the political sentiments of any of them. But I am sorry and in- 
dignant that this is not such a trial. This system by which, over 
and over again, loyal subjects of the Queen in Ireland are condemned 
in form of law for seeking, by such means as the constitution 
warrants, to restore her Majesty's kingdom of Ireland to the en- 
joyment of its national rights — this system of selecting anti- 
Kepealers and excluding Repealers from the jury-box, when a 
Repealer like me is to be tried, is calculated to bring the adminis- 
tration of justice into disesteem, disrepute, and hatred. I here 
protest against it. My lords and gentlemen of the jury, before I 
offer any reply to the charges in this indictment, and the further 
development of those charges made yesterday by the learned gentle- 
man whose official duty it was to argue the government's case 
against me, I wish to apologize to the court for declining to avail 
myself of the professional assistance of the bar upon this occasion. 



74 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 



It is not through any want of respect for the noble profession of the 
bar that I decline that assistance. I regard the duties of a lawyer 
a* among the most respectable that a citizen can undertake. His 
education has taught him to investigate the origin, and to under- 
stand the principles, of law, and the true nature of loyalty. He has 
had to consider how the interests of individual citizens may har- 
monize with the interests of the community, how justice and liberty 
may be united, how the state may have both order and contentment. 
The application of the knowledge which he has gained from the 
study of law to the daily facts of human society, sharpens and 
strengthens all his faculties, clears his judgment, helps him to dis- 
tinguish true from false, and right from wrong. It is no wonder, 
gentlemen, that an accomplished and virtuous lawyer holds a high 
place in the aristocracy of merit in every tree country. Like all 
things human, the legal profession has its dark as well as its bright 
side, has in it germs of decay and rotten foulness as well as of 
health and beauty ; but yet it is a noble profession, and one which 
I admire and respect. Rut, above all, I would desire to respect the 
bar of my own couutry, and the Irish bar — the bar made illustrious 
by such memories as those of Grattan and Flood, and the Emmets, 
and Curran, and Plunket, and Saurin, and Holmes, and Shiel, and 
O'Connell. I may add, too, of Burke and of Sheridan, for they 
were Irish in all that made them great. The bar of Ireland wants 
this day only the ennobling inspirations of national freedom to 
raise it to a level with the world. Under the Union very few 
lawyers have been produced whose names can rank in history with 
any of the great names 1 have mentioned. But still, even in the 
present times of decay, and when the Union is preparing to carry 
away our superior courts and the remains of our bar to Westminster, 
and to turn that beautiful building upon the quay into a barrack like 
the Linen Hall, or an English taxgather's office like the Custom 
House, there are many learned, accomplished, and respectable 
lawyers at the Irish bar ; and far be it from me to doubt but that any 
Irish lawyer, who might undertake my defence, would loyallv ex- 
ert himself, as the lofty idea of professional honor commands, to save 
me from a conviction. But to this attack upon my character as a 
good citizen and upon my liberty, my lords and gentlemen, the only 
defence I could permit to be offered would be a full justification of 
my political conduct, morally, constitutionally, legally — a complete 
vindication of my acts and words alleged to be seditious and dis- 
loyal, and to retort against my accusers the charge of sedition and 
disloyalty. Not, indeed, that I would desire to prosecute these 
gentlemen upon that charge, if I could count upon convicting them 
and sending them to the dungeon instead of myself. I don't desire to 
silence them, or to hurt a hair of their wigs, because their political 
opinions differ from mine. Gentlemen, this prosecution against 
me, like the prosecutions just accomplished against two national 
newspapers, is part of a scheme oft he ministers of the Crown for sup- 
pressing all voice of protest against the Union, for suppressing 
all public complaint against the deadly results of the Union, 






THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 75 



and all advocacy by act, speech, or writing for Repeal of the Union. 
Now I am a Repealer so long as I have been a politician at all — ■ 
that is, for at least twenty-four years past. Until the national self- 
government of my own country be first restored, there appears to me to 
be no place, no locus standi (as lawyers say), for any other Irish politi- 
cal question, and I consider it to be my duty, as a patriotic and 
loyal citizen, to endeavor by all honorable and prudent means to 
procure the Repeal of the Act of the Union, and the restoration of 
the independent Irish government, of which my country was (as I 
have said in my prosecuted speech), " by fraud and force," and 
against the will of the vast majority of its people of every race, 
creed, and class, though under false form of law, deprived sixty- 
seven years ago. Certainly, I do not dispute the right of you, 
gentlemen, or of any man in this court, or in all Ireland, to ap- 
prove of the Union, to praise it, if you think right, as being wise 
and beneficent, and to advocate its continuance openly by act, 
speech, and writing. But I naturally think that my convictions in 
this matter of the Union ought to be shared by you, also, gentle- 
men, and by the learned judges, and the lawyers, both crown law- 
yers and all others, and by the policemen and soldiers, and all 
faithful subjects of her Majesty in Ireland. Now, gentlemen, such 
being my convictions, were I to intrust my defence in this court to 
a lawyer, he must speak as a Repealer, not only for me, but for 
himself; not only as a professional advocate, but as a man, and 
from the heart. I cannot doubt but that there are very many Irish 
lawyers who privately share my convictions about Repeal. Believ- 
ing as I do in my heart and conscience, and with all the force of 
the mind that God has given me, that Repeal is the right and the only 
right policy for Ireland — for healing all the wounds of our commu- 
nity, all our sectarian fends, all our national shame, suffering, and 
peril — for making our country peaceful, industrious, prosperous, 
respectable and happy — I cannot doubt but that in the enlightened 
profession of the bar there must be very many Irishmen who. like 
me, consider Repeal to be right, and best, and necessary for the 
public good. But, gentlemen, ever since the Union, by fraud and 
force and against the will of the Irish people, was enacted — ever 
since that act of usurpation by the English parliament of the sov- 
ereign rights of the Queen, Lords, and Commons of Ireland — ever 
since this country was thereby rendered the subject instead of the 
sister of England — ever since the Union, but especially for about 
twenty years past, it has been the policy of those who have got pos- 
session of the sovereign rights of the Irish crown to appoint to all 
places of public trust, emolument, or honor in Ireland only such 
men as would submit, whether by parole or by tacit understanding, 
to suppress all public utterance of their desire for the Repeal of the 
Union.- 8uch has been the persistent policy towards this country 
of those who command all the patronage of Irish officers, paid and 
unpaid — the policy of all English ministers, whether Whig or Tory. 
Combined with the disposal of the public forces — such a policy is 
naturally very effective in not really reconciling, but in keeping 



76 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 



Ireland quietly subject to the Union. It is a hard trial of men's 
patriotism to be debarred from every career of profitable and honor- 
able distinction in the public service of their own country. I do 
not wonder that few Irish lawyers, in presence of the mighty power 
of England, dare sacrifice personal ambition and interest to what 
may seem a vain protest against accomplished faots. I do not wish to 
attack or offend them — as this court expresses it, to impute im- 
proper motives to them —by thus simply stating the sad facts which 
are relevant to my own case in this prosecution, and explaining 
that I decline professional assistance, because few lawyers would 
be so, rash as to adopt my political convictions, and vindicate my 
political conduct as their own ; and because, if any lawyer were so 
bold as to offer me his aid on my own terms, I am too generous to 
permit him to ruin his professional career for my sake. Such are 
the reasons, gentlemen of the jury and my lords, why I am now 
going through this trial, not secundum artem, but, like an eccentric 
patient, who won't be treated by the doctors, but will quack himself. 
Perhaps I would be safer if I did not say a word about the legal 
character of the charge made against me in this indictment. There 
are legal matters as dangerous to handle as any drugs in the phar- 
macopoeia. Yet I shall trouble you for a short time longer, while 
I endeavor to show that I have not acted in a way unbecoming a 
goud citizen. The charge against me in this indictment is that I 
took part in an illegal procession, and violated the statute en- 
titled the Party Processions Act. His lordship enumerated 
seven conditions, the violation of some one of which is necessary to 
render an assembly illegal at common law. Those seven conditions 
are : — 1. That the persons forming the assembly met to carry out 
an unlawful purpose. 2. That the numbers in which the persons 
met endangered the public peace. 8. That the assembly caused 
alarm to the peaceful subjects of the Queen. 4. That the assem- 
bly created disaffection. 5. That the assembly incited her Majesty's 
Irish subjects to hate her Majesty's English subjects — his lordship 
did not say anything of the case of an assembly inciting the 
Queen's English subjects to hate the Queen's Irish subjects, but no 
such case is likely to be tried here. 6. That the assembly intended 
to asperse the right and constitutional administration of justice ; 
and 7. That the assembly intended to impair the functions of jus- 
tice, and to bring the administration of justice into disrepute. I 
say that the procession of the 8th December did not violate any 
one of these conditions: — 1. In the first place, the persons forming 
that procession did not meet to carry out any unlawful purpose — 
their purpose was peaceably to express their opinion upon a public 
act of the public servauts of the Crown. 2. In the second place, 
the numbers in which those persons met did not endanger the pub- 
lic peace. None of those persons carried arms. Thousands of 
those persons were women and children. There was no injury or 
offence attempted to be committed against anybody, and no dis- 
turbance of the peace took place. 3. In the third place, the assem- 
bly caused no alarm to the peaceable subjects of the Queen — there 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN". 77 

is not a tittle of evidence to that effect. 4. In the fourth place, the 
assembly did not create disaffection, neither was it intended or cal- 
culated to create disaffection. On the contrary, the assembly 
served to give peaceful expression to the opinion entertained by 
vast numbers of her Majesty's peaceful subjects upon a public act 
of the servants of the Crown, — an act which vast numbers of the 
Queen's subjects regretted and condemned. And thus the assembly 
was calculated to prevent or remove disaffection. For such open and 
peaceful manifestation of the real opinions of the Queen's^ subjects 
upon public affairs is the proper, safe, and constitutional way in which 
they may aid to prevent disaffection. 5. In the fifth place, the 
assembly did not incite the Irish subjects of the Queen to hate 
her Majesty's English subjects. On the contrary, it was a proper 
constitutional way of bringing about a right understanding upon a 
transaction which, if not fairly and fully explained and set right, 
must produce hatred between the two peoples. That transaction 
was calculated to produce hatred. But those who protest peaceably 
against such a transaction are not the party to be blamed, but those 
responsible for the transaction. 6. In the sixth place, the assem- 
bly had no purpose of aspersing the right and constitutional ad- 
ministration of justice. Its tendency was peaceably to point out 
faults in the conduct of the servants of the Crown, charged with 
the administration of justice, which faults were calculated to bring 
the administration of justice into disrepute. 7. Nor, in the seventh 
place, did the assembly impair the functions of justice, or Intend or 
tend to do so. Even my prosecutors do not allege that judicial 
tribunals are infallible. It would be too absurd to make such an 
allegation in plain words. It is admitted on all hands that judges 
have sometimes given wrong directions, that juries have given 
wrong verdicts, that courts of justice have wrongfully appreciated 
the whole matter for trial. When millions of the Queen's subjects 
think that such wrong has been done, is it sedition for them to say 
so peaceably and publicly ? On the contrary, the constitutional 
way for good citizens to act in striving to keep the adminis- 
tration of justice pure and above suspicion of unfairness, is 
by such open and peaceable protests. Thus, and thus only, 
may the functions of justice be saved from being impaired. 
In this case wrong had been done. Five men had been tried 
together upon the same evidence, and convicted together upon 
that evidence, and, while one of the five was acknowledged by the 
Crown to be innocent, and the whole conviction was thus acknow- 
ledged to be wrong and invalid, three of the five men were hanged 
upon that conviction. My friend, Mr. Sullivan, in his eloquent 
and unanswerable speech of yesterday, has so clearly demonstrated 
the facts of that unhappy and disgraceful affair of Manchester, that 
I shall merely say of it that I adopt every woi'd he spoke upon the 
subject for mine, and to justify the sentiment and purpose with 
which I engaged in the procession of the 8th December. I say the 
persons responsible for that transaction are fairly liable to the 
charge of acting so as bring the administration of justice into 



78 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

contempt, unless, gentlemen, you hold those persons to be infallible, 
and hold that they can do no wrong. But, gentlemen, the consti- 
tution does not say that the servants of the Crown can do no wrong. 
According to the constitution the Sovereign can do no wrong, but 
her servants may. In this case they have done wrong. And, 
gentlemen, you cannot right that wrong, nor save the administra- 
tion of justice from the disrepute into which such proceedings 
are calculated to bring it, by giving a verdict to put my comrades 
and myself into jail for saying openly and peaceably that we believe 
the administration of justice in that unhappy affair did do wrong. 
But further, gentlemen, let us suppose that you twelve jurors, as 
well as the servants of the Crown who are prosecuting me, and the 
two judges, consider me to be mistaken in my opinion upon that 
judicial proceeding, yet you have no right under the constitution 
to convict me of a misdemeanor for openly and peaceably express- 
ing my opinion. You have no such right ; and as to the wisdom 
of treating my differences of opinion and the peaceable expression 
of it as a penal offence — and the wisdom of a political act ought to 
be a serious question with all good and loyal citizens — consider that 
the opinion you are invited by the crown prosecutors to pronounce 
to be a penal offence is not mine alone, nor that alone of the five men 
herein indicated, but is the opinion of all the 30,000 persons esti- 
mated by the crown evidence to have taken part in the assembly of 
the 8th of December; is the opinion, besides, of the 90,000 or 
100,000 others who, standing in the streets of this city, or at the 
open windows overlooking the streets traversed by the procession 
that day, manifested their sympathy with the objects of the pro- 
cession ; is the opinion, as you are morally certain, of some millions 
of your Irish fellow-subjects. By indicting me for the expression 
of that opinion, the public prosecutors virtually indict some millions 
of the Queen's peaceable Irish subjects. It is only the convenience 
of this court — which could not hold the millions in one batch of 
traversers, and which would require daily sittings for several suc- 
cessive years to go through the proper formalities for duly trying 
ali those millions; it is only the convenience of this court that can 
be pretended to relieve the crown prosecutors from the duty of 
trying and convicting all those millions, if it is their duty to try 
and convict me. The right principles of law do not allow the 
servants of the Crown to evade or neglect their duty of bringing 
to justice all offenders against the law. I suppose these gentlemen 
may allege that it is at their discretion what offenders against the 
law they will prosecute. I deny that the principles of law allow 
them, or allow the Queen, such discretion. The Queen, at her 
coronation services, swears to do justice to all her subjects, 
according to the law. The Queen, certainly, has the right by the 
constitution to pardon any offenders against the law. She has the 
prerogative of mercy. But there can be no pardon, no mercy, till 
after an offence be proved in due course of law by accusation of the 
alleged offenders before the proper tribunals, followed by their plea 
of guilty or the jurors' verdict of guilty. And to select one man 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 79 



or six men for trial, condemnation, and punishment, out of. say, 
four millions who have really participated in the same alleged 
wicked, malicious, seditious, evil-disposed, and unlawful proceed- 
ing, is unfair to the six men, and unfair to the other 3,999,994 
men — is a dereliction of duty on the part of the officers of the law, 
and is calculated to bring the administration of justice into disrepute. 
Equal justice is what the constitution demands. Under military au- 
thority an army may be decimated, and a few offenders may properly 
be punished, while the rest are left unpunished. But under a 
free constitution it is not so. Whoever breaks the law must be 
made amenable to punishment, or equal justice is not rendered to 
the subjects of the Queen. Is it not pertinent, therefore, gentle- 
men, for me to say to you this is an unwise proceeding which my 
prosecutors bid you to sanction by a verdict? I have heard it asked 
by a lawyer addressing this court as a question that must, be 
answered in the negative— Can you indict a whole nation"? If such 
a proceeding as this prosecution against the peaceable procession of 
the 8th of December receives the sanction of your verdict, that ques- 
tion must be answered in the affirmative. It will need only a crown 
prosecutor, an Attorney-General, and a Solicitor-General, two judges, 
and twelve jurors, all of the one mind, while all the other subjects 
of the Queen in Ireland are of a different mind, and the five 
millions and a-half of the Queen's subjects in Ireland outside that 
circle of seventeen of her Majestys' subjects, may be indicted, con- 
victed, and consigned to penal imprisonment in due form of law — 
as law is understood in political trials in Ireland. Gentlemen, I 
have thus far endeavored to argue from the common-sense of man- 
kind, with which the principles of law must be in accord, that the 
peaceable procession of the 8th of December — that peaceable de- 
monstration of the sentiment of millions of the Queen's subjects in 
Ireland — did not violate any of the seven conditions of the learned 
judge to the grand jury in defining what constitutes an illegal as- 
sembly at common law ; and I have also argued that the prosecu- 
tion is unwise, and calculated to excite discontent. Gentlemen, I 
shall now endeavor to show you that the procession of the 8th of 
December did not violate the statute entitled the Party Processions 
Act. The learned judge in his charge told the grand jury that under 
this act all processions are illegal which carry weapons of offence, 
or which carry symbols calculated to promote the animosity of some 
other class of her Majesty's subjects. Applying the law to this case, 
his lordship remarked that the processions of the 8th of December 
had something of military array — that is, they went in regular 
order with a regular step. But, gentlemen, there were no arms in 
that procession, there were no symbols in that procession intended 
or calculated to provoke animosity in any other class of the Queen's 
subjects, or in any human creature. There was neither symbol, 
nor deed, nor word, intended to provoke animosity. As to the 
military array — is it not absurd to attribute a warlike character to 
an unarmed and perfectly peaceful assemblage, in which there were 
some thousands of women and children? No offence was giveu or 



80 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

offered any human being. The authorities were so assured of the 
peacefulness and inoffensiveness of the assemblage that the police 
were withdrawn in a great measure from their ordinary duties of 
preventing disorders. And as to the remark that the people walked 
with a regnlar step, I need only say that was done for the sake of 
order and decorum. It would 'be merely to doubt whether you are 
men of common-sense if I argued any further to satisfy you that 
the procession did not violate the Party Processions Act, as 
defined by the learned judge. The speech delivered on that 
occasion is an important element in forming a judgment upon the 
character and object of the procession. The speech declared the 
procession to be a peaceable expression of the opinion of those who 
composed it upon an important public transaction — an expression 
of sorrow and indignation at an act of the ministers of the govern- 
ment. It was a protest against that act— a protest which those 
who disapproved of it were entitled by the constitution to make, 
and which they made, peaceably and legitimately. Has not every 
individual of the millions of the Queen's subjects the right to say 
openly whether he approves or disapproves of any public act of 
the Queen's ministers ? Have not all the Queen's subjects the right 
to say so together, if they can, without disturbance of the Queen's 
peace? The procession enabled many thousands to do that without 
the least inconvenience or danger to themselves, and with no injury 
or offence to their neighbors. To prohibit or punish peaceful, in- 
offensive, orderly, and perfectly innocent processions upon pretence 
that they are constructively unlawful, is unconstitutional tyranny. 
Was that done because the ministers discovered that the terror of 
suspended Habeas Corpus had not in this matter stifled public 
opinion? Of course, if anything be prohibited by government, 
the people obey — of course I obey. I would not have held the 
procession had I not understood that it was permitted. But 
understanding that it was permitted, and so believing that 
it might serve the people for a safe and useful expression of 
their sentiment, I held the procession. I did not hold the 
procession because I believed it to be illegal, but because I be- 
lieved it to be legal and understood it to be permitted. In this 
country it is not law that must rule a loyal citizen's conduct, but 
the caprice of the English ministers. For myself, I acknowledge 
that I submit to such system of government unwillingly, and 
with constant hope for the restoration of the reign of law, but I do 
submit. Why at first did the ministers of the Crown permit an ex- 
pression of censure Upon that judicial proceeding at Manchester by 
a procession — why did they not warn her Majesty's subjects against 
the danger of breaking the law? Was it not because they thought 
that the terrors of the suspended Habeas Corpus would be enough to 
prevent the people from coming openly forward at all to express 
their real sentiments ? Was ir because they found that so vehement 
and so general was the feeling of indignation at that unhappy trans- 
action at Manchester that they did venture to come openly forward. 
with perfect and most careful observance of the peace, to express 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 81 

their real sentiments — that the ministry proclaimed down the pro- 
cession, and now prosecute us in order to stifle public opinion '? 
Gentlemen of the jury, I have said euough to convince any twelve 
reasonable men that there was nothing in my conduct in the matter 
of that procession which you can declare on your oaths to be 
''malicious, seditious, ill-disposed, and intended to disturb the peace 
and tranquillity of the realm." I shall trouble you no further, except 
by asking you to listen to the summing up of the indictment, and, 
while you "listen, to judge between me and the Attorney-General. 
I shall read you my words and his comment. Judge, Irish jurors, 
which of us two is guilty: — "Let us, therefore, conclude this pro- 
ceeding by joining heartily, with hat soff, in the prayer of those 
three men, ' God save Ireland.'" " Thereby," says the Attorney- 
General in his indictment, " meaning, and intending to excite hatred, 
dislike, and animosity against her Majesty and the government, and 
bring into contempt the administration of justice and the laws of this 
realm, and cause strife and hatred between her Majesty's subjects in 
Ireland and in England, and to excite discontent and disaffection 
against her Majesty's government." Gentlemen, I have now done. 
Mr. Martin sat down amidst loud and prolonged applause. 

This splendid argument, close, searching, irresistible, 
gave the coup de grace to the crown case. The 
prisoners having called no evidence, according to 
honorable custom having almost the force of law, the 
prosecution was disentitled to any rejoinder. Neverthe- 
less, the Crown put up its ablest speaker, a man far 
surpassing in attainments as a lawyer and an orator both 
the Attorney and Solicitor-General, Mr. Ball, Q. C, to 
press against the accused that technical right which 
honorable usage reprehended as unfair ! No doubt 
the crown authorities felt it was not a moment in which 
they could afford to be squeamish or scrupulous. The 
speeches of Mr. Sullivan and Mr. Martin had had a 
visible effect upon the jury— had, in fact, made shreds of 
the crown case ; and so Mr. Ball was put up as the last 
hope of averting the " disaster n of a failure. He spoke 
with his accustomed ability and dignity, and made a 
powerful appeal in behalf of the Crown. Then Mr. 
Justice Fitzgerald proceeded to charge the jury, which 
he did in his own peculiarly calm, precise, and perspicu- 
ous style. At the outset, referring to the protest of 
the accused against the conduct of the Crown in the- 
jury challenges, he administered a keen rebuke to the 



S2 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

government officials. It was, be said, no doubt the strict 
legal right of the Crown to act as it had done ; yet, con- 
sidering that this was a case in which the accused was 
accorded no corresponding privilege, the exercise of that 
right in such a manner by the Crown certainly was, in 
his, Mr. Justice Fitzgerald's estimation, a subject for grave 
objection. 

Here there was what the newspaper reporters call 
i ' sensation in court." What! Had it come to this, 
that one of the chief institutions of the land — a very 
pillarof the Crown and government — namely, jury-pcKMng, 
was to be reflected upon from the bench itself. Mon- 
strous ! 

The charge, though mild in language, was pretty 
sharp on the " criminality " of such conduct as was im- 
puted to the accused, yet certainly left some margin to 
the jury for the exercise of their opinion upon " the law 
and the facts." 

At two o'clock in the afternoon the jury retired to 
consider their verdict, and as the judges at the same 
moment withdrew to their chamber, the pent-up feelings 
of the crowded audience instantly found vent in loud 
Babel-like expressions and interchange of comments on 
the charge, and conjectures as to the result. " Waiting for 
the verdict" is a scene that has often been described and 
painted. Every one of course concluded that half-an-hour 
would, in any case, elapse before the anxiously-watched 
jury-room door would open j but, when the clock hands 
neared three, suspense, intense and painful, became more 
and more visible in every countenance. It seemed to be 
only now that men fully realized all that was at stake, 
all that was in peril, on this trial ! A conviction in this 
case rendered the national color of Ireland forever-more an 
illegal and forbidden emblem ! A conviction in this case 
would degrade the symbol of nationality into a badge of 
faction ! To every fevered, anxious mind at this moment 
rose the troubled memories of gloomy times — the " dark 
and evil days" chronicled in that popular ballad, the music 
and words of which now seemed to haunt the watchers 
in the court : — 



THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 83 

"O Patrick dear! and did you hear 

The news that's going round? 
The shamrock is by law forbid 

To grow on Irish ground. 
No more St. Patrick's day we'll keep — 

His color can't be seen, 
For there's a bloody law agen 

The wearing of the Green." 

But hark ! There is a noise at the jiiry-room door ! 
It opens — the jury enter the box. A murmur, swell- 
ing to almost a roar, from the crowded audience is in- 
stantly followed by a death-like stillness. The judges 
are called ; but by this time it is noticed that the fore- 
man has not the u issue-paper" ready to hand down ; and 
a buzz goes round — " A question ; a question ! n It is 
even so. The foreman asks : — 

Whether, if they believed the speech of Mr. Martin to be in 
itself seditious, should they come to the conclusion that the as- 
semblage was seditious ? 

Mr. Justice Fitzgerald answers in the negative, and a 
thrill goes through the audience. Nor is this all. One 
of the jurors declares that there is no chance whatever of 
their agreeing to a verdict ! Almost a cheer breaks 
out. The judge, however, declares they must retire 
again; which the jury do, very reluctantly and doggedly; 
in a word, very unlike men likely to " persuade one 
another." 

When the judges again leave the bench for their cham- 
ber, the crowd in court give way outright to joy. Every 
face is bright ; every heart is light ; jokes go round, and 
there is great "chaff" of the crown officials, and of 
the " polis," who, poor fellows, to tell the truth, seem 
to be as fflad as the gladdest in the throno*. Five o'clock 
arrives — half-past five — the jury must surely be out soon 
now. At a quarter to six they come ; and, for an instant, 
the joke is hushed, and cheeks suddenly grow pale with 
fear lest, by any chance, it might be evil news. But the 
faces of the jurymen tell plainly, "No verdict." The 
judges again are seated. The usual questions in such 
cases : the usual answers. " No hope whatever of an 



84 THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. 

agreement." Then, after a reference to the Solicitor- 
General, who, in a sepulchral tone, " supposes " there is 
" nothing for it " but to discharge the jury, his lordship 
declares the jury discharged. 

Like a volley there burst a wild cheer, a shout, that 
shook the building ! Again and again it was renewed ; 
and, being caught up by the crowd outside, sent the 
tidings of victory with electrical rapidity through the city. 
Then there was a rush at Mr. Martin and Mr. Sullivan. 
The former especially was clasped, embraced, and borne 
about by the surging throng, wild with joy. It was with 
considerable difficulty any of the traversers could get away, 
so demonstrative was the multitude in the streets. Through- 
out the city the event was hailed with rejoicing, and the 
names of the jurymen, "good and bad," were vowed to 
perpetual benediction. For once, at least, justice had 
triumphed; or rather, injustice had been baulked. For 
once, at least, the people had won the day; and the 
British government had received a signal overthrow in 
its endeavor to proscribe — 

" The Wearing of the Green." 



For one of the actors in the above-described memo- 
rable scene, the victory purchased but a few hours' safety. 
Next morning, Mr. A. M. Sullivan was placed again at 
the bar to hear his sentence — that following upon the 
first of the prosecutions hurled against him (the press 
prosecution), on which he had been found guilty. 
Again the court was crowded — this time with anxious 
faces devoid of hope. It was a brief scene. Mr. Jus- 
tice Fitzgerald announced the sentence — six months in 
Richmond Prison ; and, amidst a farewell demonstration 
that compelled the business of the court to be temporarily 
suspended, the officials led away in custody the only one 
of the prosecuted processionists who expiated by punish- 
ment his sympathy with the fate of the Martyred Three 
of Manchester. 



H 104 89 it 



